Change of address

Kevin's log page has migrated (yes, again) and may now be found at:

http://powerinthedark.livejournal.com

"If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; If not, why then, this parting was well made."

Safehouse: Common Area(#2947RAJ)
The foyer of this house is set off from the living room with its octagonal bump-out by a four foot high halfwall. Stairs lead up from the foyer, turning and disappearing to the right, and a wooden door with a keycard lock claims the wall opposite the living room. The rest of the main floor is taken up by a small bathroom across the hallway from a dining room which is separated from the kitchen at the back of the house by another half-wall. The decor is decidedly sparse - white walls, beige carpeting in the living and dining rooms and down the hall, unremarkable vinyl in the foyer and kitchen.
A used couch and a pair of recliners are grouped around a coffee table in the living room, with a foursome of wooden chairs claiming the bump out for quieter conversation. The dining room boasts a white laminate table with four aluminum and vinyl-upholstered chairs - too new to be 'vintage', too old to be trendy. The appliances and cupboards in the kitchen are new - or at least refurbished to look like it - and a door leads out to the backyard from there.
Up the stairs are a number of empty rooms where anyone affiliated with the Sept can crash and an office for private meetings. The Glass Walkers have their own area accessible via a locked door off the foyer. The main doors themselves lead back out to the front porch of the house.

Kevin lies on the floor, on his tummy, a ratty piece of paper by his head which he's staring it. It's so covered with pencil marks, arrows, dotted lines and such like that it's very hard to even guess what it might be. The pencil which may have made some of those marks is in his mouth, being chewed.

Coming from upstairs in his pants, with a towel hanging over his head, Basil strolls down the steps with his hands in his pockets. Pausing to look at Kevin for a minute, he walks over and gives him a light prod in the leg with one bare foot. "Hey packie. Having a nap or something?"

"Nah," Kevin says round the pencil. "Still trying to puzzle out a strategy for tomorrow." He points at the paper with one forefinger. "This is the tire yard... meant to be."

"Mm? We've got a Get commander. There is no strategy." Basil replies, settling down on his knees next to Kevin. He leans over to look at the paper, then looks over at Kevin. "Guess we'll see what we'll see when it comes. Fortune favors the brave."

Kevin rolls from his stomach onto his side. "You feeling brave, Basil?" he asks, looking up at the ahroun.

Basil smirks and shakes his head at Kevin. "No. I don't want to even think about fighting that thing after the stuff it did to you. But I haven't got a choice. So what good is worrying about it all the time going to do?"

"I'd worry a great deal less," snorts Kevin ruefully, "if you weren't gonna be there as well as me. Did Emma say what she was planning to do with you?"

"We're going to be soldiers." Basil replies. "We aren't going to be on the front, but if Emma tries to separate us, I won't let her." He reaches over and fuzzles Kevin's hair, flashing his packmate a brief smile. "You're worried about what'll be like more if I die and leave you, than if you die, huh?"

Kevin shakes his head vigorously. "I'm not thinking about it. Not at all. If I think about it," he says, superstitiously, "it's more likely to happen. Or so I've been playing games with myself. If I can go an hour without thinking of you dying it won't happen."

"Now you're just being silly. Cute, but silly." Basil replies, sprawling out on the floor beside Kevin and pulling his arms behind his head. "We've done all we can. The only other factors left are our strength and our willpower. And our luck. Someone'll die tomorrow, probably. But it's a one in eight chance, or less.""

"Do you know who else is gonna be fighting by us?" Kevin asks. "Thomas Grey said he would, which is cool. Because if any garou in this sept is bombproof it's Grey."

"Ha. Then we'll probably just get along fine. Grey will frenzy on the thing and kill it before we even lift a claw." Basil states with a grin. "I'd fear him more than that Bane any day."

"He's a pussycat really," Kevin confides. "Took me a long time to find out that by god the guy's human after all... well, not human, but you know what I mean... Who else do we have?"

"Some spirits. Some from James, some from the fire, and some Wildfire guys or something I guess. I don't really know." Basil says, lifting his hands and dropping them. "I guess it doesn't matter for us all that much."

"I like to know who I've got at my back," Kevin says. "I'd trust most any of Havoc... specially KL..." He gives a small smile at something. "Or Dillen for that matter. We took each other's backs the night Tamara bought the farm..."

"Stop thinking about death." Basil calls, nudging Kevin in the side. "Ever hear of a self fulfillin' prophecy? Besides, I'd like to think a few nights with me is worth facing possible death." Basil turns his head, brushing his nails across his chest then examining them with a cocky expression. "The best stuff always costs the most."

Kevin gives a theatrical sigh. "You tell me to stop going on about death," he challenges Basil, "while all the time you go on about sex. Six of one, half a dozen of the other."

"That's because it never fails to derail your train of thought, make you blush and think, or whatever. It's funny. Hell, if we ain't got anything else anymore, at least we've got laughter. That's something the Wyrm can never take away." Basil bows his head with a snort. "Maybe I'm a child of Coyote and none of us know it."

"I could die laughing," Kevin says. "Speaking of... I had the weirdest dream the other day. Dreamt we were at a moot, and you and I were doing a stand-up routine in front of all the garou. Making them laugh like crazy, we were. Well... you were. I was more the straight man... and don't make the joke."

"Sounds like something we'd do. Except the last bit." Basil replies, then leans over and wraps an arm around Kevin, laying close enough to let his head rest against Kevin's side. "If I do go tomorrow, Kev, don't hate yourself. It won't be your fault, or anyone else's but the Philodox. I don't want you to avenge me. I don't want you to lose yourself." He lifts his head enough to look at Kevin, then touches him on the nose with a smile. "Just live, 'kay?"

Kevin looks into Basil's eyes from a distance of mere inches. "Deal," he says quietly. "And back at you, gorgeous. If I fall, you get on with your life. You're back on the right path now... and hell, without me, you and Aimee might find you have a lot in common. Hell, you already did..."

Basil smirks a little at Kevin, then he just shakes his head. "I doubt that'll happen, because you'll be coming back to have her for yourself. Besides, she's a Glass Walker, an Glass Walker Kin should have Glass Walker pups eh?" He nudges Kevin in the chest, then yawns suddenly and fans his face. "Oh, s'cuse me. Guess I'm just wakin' up still."

Kevin holds his hand in front of Basil's mouth. "OK, so you still have to learn manners," he grins. "So let's stop frowsting around inside. Let's go out and live it up tonight, really take our minds off this stuff. Wanna go out on the town?"

"Actually... Well." Basil settles his head down on Kevin again and closes his eye, smiling all the while. "I just want to stay here with you, unless you had something special planned. Nothing 'funny', just, well... We might not see each other again, but I still love the hell out of you. I just want to remember what it's like to lay here and just be with ya, packie."

Kevin's eyebrows go up to his hairline in surprise. "And you're the one who's always telling me that I ought to live it up because you never know when it may be your last chance to!" he points out. "But hell... of course I can... let's just be here. Together. There's a line in Shakespeare..." He frowns as he tries to remember. "If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; If not, why then, this parting was well made."

"To me, this is living it up.. To a degree." Basil murmurs, nestling down to rest his head against Kevin's chest. "What did you have planned anyways? Going out and drinking, and then that's about it?" Basil asks, only briefly looking up at Kevin. "Such a poet. Maybe you should have been a Galliard or something, huh?"

"Wasn't planning on drinking," Kevin says. "But I thought maybe a meal out, see a film... go down to the river and walk along it... not as territory patrol for once, but to enjoy it..."

"A date without the sex, huh?" Basil muses, then rises up to his feet with a moment of hesitation. He pulls his hair out of his face, then gestures his head over his shoulder. "I'm going to go get my shirt and shoes on."

"Call it that if you like," Kevin says evenly. Then, "Why? You gonna come out with me after all?"

"No, I just thought I'd get dressed for no particular reason." Basil remarks on his way upstairs, but he's soon back out on the landing in his mesh and boots, heading right back down with a smile and a quick step.

Kevin has moved up onto the couch by the time Basil returns, clad for going out. "So you were joking, again," he smiles. "I'm starting to figure when you're not being serious. Something in the way your mouth goes."

"Well at least someone is. It's kind of annoying to not be serious and be taken badly, and the other way around. Really annoying, actually." Basil nods at Kevin, then walks to the front door and yanks it open, stepping out onto the porch.

"You do deadpan so well, though," Kevin compliments Basil as he follows the Bone Gnawer out. He closes and locks the door behind them with something of the air of Bilbo Baggins leaving his hobbit hole on his great adventure. "Where first?"

~If you hold that to your lips you can make noises with it.~

This scene was played, OOC, on 29 July and set two days or so before (for lunar purposes). Kudos to Sai for playing Patches.

Umbra: Harbor Park
The Umbral ground beneath your feet here is lush with vegetation, an oasis of life amidst the concrete and webbing of the scab. Trees stand proud and tall here, their branches full of leaves. Shrubs line the outer edges of the park, tangled with encroaching webs. The fountain stands out boldly from even the surrounding area, the sleek lines sharper and more pronounced. Clean pure water roars and cascades from the figure in the fountain's center, falling into a cold clear pool that looks quite inviting. Spreading out from the fountain, the rest of the park is a green veldt that seems to radiate life and strength. The river banks the east shore of the park, bridged by a massive rusty bridge. On this shore, the glade seems to have spread out on to it, vines winding around the supports. Further across the river, the bridge melds into the scab again, flaked with rust and covered in webs. The river itself is clean within a few feet of the shore, but black ooze seems to encroach menacingly from the murk of the rest of the river.
A walkway leads out of the Glade-like atmosphere of the park from just north of the fountain. Eastward, the dark span of the bridge stretches over the vile river. Dark streets lead west and southwest into the blighted Umbra of the city.

The umbral sky is dominated by a half-moon that's an almost exact semi-circle as three garou step sideways into the umbra of Harbor Park in the middle of St Claire, the heart of the territory claimed by pack to which two of them belong and the third hopes to join. Kevin relaxes a little as he and Basil usher Morgan through. "Phew," he comments. "Always a bit nerveracking taking you through town, Morgan. In case your coat comes open at the wrong time." He pats her on the shoulder and shifts through the forms to hispo.

Basil is up and into Crinos almost as soon as his spiritual form fades in, the Garou clearly seeming a bit edgier than he normally does. Kills-the-Cries takes a good long look around them before he finally turns to Morgan, and manages an odd looking smile. ~You'll get along fine with him. I know it. Just remember, he's not very serious. Not really like Garou. But respect him.~

Song-of-Luna is already sliding into her birthform herself, and if Basil looks edgy, he doesn't have much on the metis. Her fur is raised, her ears are slicked back, and she looks as though she's expecting a root canal rather than a pack invitation. Her eyes scan the park carefully, nose twitching.

Power-Up is already running up ahead, slipping naturally into his usual pack position of scout and front-runner. His nose is to the ground like a bloodhound as he seeks out the scent of the raccoon totem.

~Wonder if he ran into trouble from the spiders.~ Kills murmurs, glancing around the back then over at Morgan. ~Easy girl. Keep yourself alert, but easy. Got to keep your wits about you.~

Song-of-Luna grunts in response to Basil's words, but says nothing else. Her two lower hands, carrying the prize she intends to deliver, are clasped tightly against each other.

A loud crack of something hard smashing against concrete, or something quite similar to it, disturbs the relative white noise silence of the city Umbra. Far off, there are some alien buzzings like the heart of the City's beating, but this sound is quite close. Closer to the river side of the park, in fact. The raccoon spirit isn't terribly hard to spot once they crest the mild bank and look down towards the sludge and slime filled Shadow river. The totem is quite large, in fact. And at the moment, smashing what looks like a mutated, red and purple lobster against the back of a sleeping rock-spirit. It squeals in his nimble claws and wriggles, and he smashes it a few more times until it stops. That's when he inspects his handiwork, and looks behind him to see the Garou coming over.

Power-Up puts his front paws up on the low barrier that separates park from riverbank and looks down at the scene. ~Patches!~ he calls out. ~You who we follow and serve! We bring you a new garou who wishes to join us in your pack.~

Kills-the-Cries looks over in the distance, seeming somewhat startled for a moment before he runs a paw across his face as if brushing hair that is no longer there. ~I didn't know spirits ate.~ He remarks a loud, then throws a salute in the Totem's direction. ~I'm glad to see you're doing well, Lord Patches. This is a good friend of mine.~ He gestures to Bug with the same awkward smile he'd shown her. ~She's a good egg, but a little unstable.~

Song-of-Luna jumps at the crack, though once she spies the large raccoon she actually does appear to relax, if ever so slightly. At Basil's words she looks at him, then at Kevin, and finally back to the spirit, who suddenly gets her complete and utter attention. She avoids his eyes out of habit, but she's clearly enthralled.

Patches eats alright. The giant raccoon stuffs the lobster tail into his mouth, chewing on chitinous spirit shell and juicy ephemera like it were oh so delicious. Addressed, the spirit gets up and ambles over with prey in mouth. His face mask squeezes a bit thinner around the edges as he regards all three of them. *The Lord greets you all,* he says quite pompously at first, taking a claw and waving it around like a scepter. *I know you, and you, and... who's this now?*
From afar, to the room, Patches eats Basil's fingers in the meantime.

Power-Up shuffles sideways to give Patches a clearer view of the new applicant. ~This is Song-of-Luna,~ he tells the totem. ~We all know her already, and like her, and shall guard her back as she guides ours.~

Kills-the-Cries nods assent. ~Introduce yourself,~ he prompts her, not unfriendly in his tone.

Song-of-Luna licks her muzzle self-consciously, and straightens up a very little. ~I am Song-of-Luna,~ she says. Her tone isn't exactly proud, but at least she manages to keep any note of apology out of it. ~Fianna Metis Galliard Cliath. Sometimes called Bug.~ Her nose twitches for a moment, and then her lower, deformed pair of hands clench a little more tightly. ~I brought presents.~

*Hmmm, curiouser and curiouser,* Patches declares with the sense that yes, he is particularly drawn towards those little hands so out of place on the metis. Shambling around her like a fat and furry drill sergeant, Patches remains all serious up until she mentions, *Presents?! Ooh, do tell...* The metis finds her body being quite thoroughly inspected with the spirit's greedy claws, rubbing her ears, rifling through her fur, all around having very little sense of propriety.

Power-Up gives the faintest of woofs of encouragement to Morgan to co-operate with Patches.
~We have been leaving you small shiny items,~ Kills-the-Cries reminds Patches, ~since you told us you like those. If she joins us, she will leave you more.~

Touching, touching, argh. Song-of-Luna shudders under the inspection, but she manages to hold herself together, and, after a few moments, she opens those hands so that Patches can see what she's brought. There's a rather battered harmonica, metal, but not terribly expensive in the slightest. A beer bottle cap. A tiny piece of quartz. And a Reese's peanut-butter cup foil wrapper.

Patches examines more thoroughly than any airport security guard. *Yes, yes, yes,* he replies towards the Gnawer ahroun, *But you need to be more clever! The crows, the rats, they keep stealing it away before I see it. Bad, very bad. Good thing they don't know where the ones I do have, the best ones, are...* His mutterings dissolve away as the Fianna opens her hands. It's the harmonica that catches his attention, gleaming when exposed to the umbral light. Patches hesitates for a split second, and then quick as a bird, snatches the implements away. The three Garou can hear his mutterings more as he looks the gifts over, turning them around, feeling the textures. Then he looks pointedly at the pack. *Anything else?*

Power-Up fidgets in a disconcerted way. ~If you hold that to your lips you can make noises with it,~ he points out, which of course is far from an answer to the question.

~That is all for the present,~ Kills-the-Cries responds. ~We can bring more at next full moon?~

Song-of-Luna scratches her neck with one of her natural looking hands, and tips her ears back more. ~The other rocks don't shine so much,~ she explains, and this time she does sound very apologetic indeed.

Patches pauses in the middle of tasting the bottlecap. Lips? Since when do raccoon have lips? The harmonica is looked over, flipped over, turned over again. Then, he shoves the harmonica back towards Morgan insistently. Glancing between the three, the totem says all too like Morpheus, *Show me.*

Power-Up looks to the galliard expectantly. ~Give us a tune, Song-of-Luna.~ The big hispo wolf then checks around, making sure that any music-making here in the umbra will not attract immediate unwanted attention. Nothing larger than the ubiquitous city spiders surrounds the empty space of the umbral park.

Harmonicas aren't exactly easy things to handle with crinos claws. Given that Song-of-Luna is still able to, one might suspect she's done this before in this form. She clutches it thickly, and plants it right up against her mouth. Lupine lips don't exactly pucker, but she puffs a very heavy breath through the battered instrument. The sound that comes out is very like "PBBBBBTHTTUTTH." Elephant farts. Hardly musical, but loud enough to make up for it.

Kills-the-Cries tries to suppress a negative reaction at the noise, and almost succeeds.

Patches, for the moment, looks... unimpressed. The spirit's eyes shift towards the current two packmembers.

Power-Up stands up to his full hispo height. ~You will like her, Patches,~ he declares. ~Her mind runs along lines which ours do too.~ The ragabash sounds fairly confident for once.

Song-of-Luna puffs again, with less than stellar results. She seems pleased, however. And after a moment she shrinks in size, down to a scraggly, four armed girl, and even manages to get some kind of note out of it. Some kind of ugly note anyhow. "Is called radio," she explains.

Kills-the-Cries seems on the point of correcting the metis, but thinks better of it.

Patches is /clearly/ mulling it over. Clearly. A foreclaw comes out, asking for the harmonica again. *You promise to bring many more things like this...?* he queries the metis, ears and nose twitching expectantly. Somehow that bottlecap doesn't impede the spirit's ability to speak at all.

Power-Up gives a small involuntary nod as though answering for Morgan.

Morgan offers the harmonica up again willingly. "I bring lots," she states.

~We can help you collect some,~ Kills-the-Cries promises Morgan. It's plain that he is keen for her to prove acceptable.

Patches takes the harmonica and uses it as a neckscratcher, stalling for time on making any sort of decisions. Then, stuffing the harmonica in his mouth as well, the raccoon makes a grab for the metis' tinier hands with his own claws.

Morgan trembles again, but she doesn't pull her hands away. Still in homid, she lifts her head again, and sniffs at the spirit, eyes wide.

*Four arms. Four hands. You collect twice as much,* Patches states, eyeing the three with a beady, and a bit greedy eye. *You do that.* And with a change of facial expression that can only be called the smile of a thief, Patches lets go and scuttles back a few steps. *She's good. See ya!* And just like that, the raccoon scampers (as much as a large furry animal spirit is capable of doing) on off through the meadow.

Kills-the-Cries grins savagely. ~He never misses a trick,~ he comments, ~and let's hope we don't either.~

Morgan looks after Patches until he's gone far enough that she can't clearly see him anymore, and then she looks toward her two companions. Her two packmates. Her eyes are still wide, but there's a look of tense...what? Tensed something. Like she were trying to smile and not to smile all at the same time.

Power-Up walks towards Morgan. He doesn't quite lick her, but he comes close. You are one of us now, yes, yes, yes! he triumphs in wolven language.

And somewhere in the meadow, a loud PHBBBTHTTTTHHTH! of a harmonica being played by a being not meant to play such an instrument acts as a send off.

"A little match can start a fire that burns a forest..."

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.

Nose to the ground, Power-in-the-Darkness comes into the caern as though following the scent of someone's trail, ears pricked and alert.

The air about the caern settles, as if night were about to come again--except that night and the settling cooling air already happened many many hours ago. A pregnant tension mounts. One of the steam vents erupts a countering blast of sulfurous air, rupturing the pent-up pressure. And then a small licking of flame of yellow and orange emerges from a nearby crack, growing to a height of a mere two feet tall. With glowing red eyes. A small fire elemental, manifested in the realm. ~Garou.~ It's voice sizzles and cracks like logs and twigs in a fire, speaking the Mother Tongue. ~I seek the Garou of this place of power.~

Her attention torn from the Bone Gnawer, Pierces the Ice rises up to crinos, taking several steps toward the steam vents and the elemental now present. ~We are they,~ she answers simply. Her tone is formal, her posture showing as much caution as not, and the hairs begin to rise along her spine.

Leads-Without-Voice suddenly jumps back a foot or two, hairs rising stiffly long his neck and back as the small fire elemental manifests in the realm before the Garou gathered here. He looks around him, seeing the others and perking his ears forward.

Power-Up seems to be making for Pierces-Ice, but even as he sees (or more likely, in this dark night, scents) the Wendigo, the blackness is disturbed by the bright glow of the flame spirit, and he pauses in his loping movement to stare at it. He grows as far as hispo and responds. ~We are here. What do you want with us, spirit?~

Sparks drift upwards with an audible *snap!* as the fire elemental opens its mouth again to speak. ~There is rumor that you intend to destroy the conflagration in the place of the Weaver.~ If one could say 'conflagration' reverently, it was just accomplished. ~Is this true?~

The bridge, the Bone Gnawer answers quitely in his body language. His ears perk forward, seeming amused to find this small spirit here. He seems to be already bobbing his head before the others even answer.

~It is corrupt. The Horned Serpent rules that blaze,~ the Wendigo Ahroun answers, a small growl adding to her affirmative response.

Jesus, step away for a `few minutes` and see what you miss. Ciuraq returns to his night watch from having checked something suspicious down to the south. The Uktena staggers to a stop, nearly tripping and falling over the south rim in the process. Shifting up to war form, he moves quickly down the path into the Caern.

Emma is drawn to this fire with an intense curiousity. As she moves she too rises to Crinos, eyes meeting the dancing fire. ~I will be leading the attack upon that corruption.~

Power-Up glances towards Emma before speaking again. ~The fire is full of the Wyrm,~ he says, echoing Pierces-Ice. ~So it must be quenched. Again; what do you want from us?~

A tendril of flame reaches out and drags in a nearby dead stick into the heart of the flame. It almost instantly ignites, as might be expected of a bit of wood suddenly introduced into a fire elemental. ~It matters not who rules the fire, so long as there is the fire.~

*Our laws require us to destroy the wyrm blight.* That'd be the Gatekeeper, Circle Keeper, as he finally arrives down into the Caern. He's a tad light on breath from the mad dash down. *Does its extinguishing offend you that greatly?*

Pierces Ice's small growl grows sharp briefly and then subsides again. ~It matters.~ The words are low and gruff, rather than holding anger. ~It is our purpose to stop such corruption, as yours is to blaze.~

The Bone Gnawer looks lost and sides back a little ways. The Ahroun's lips prematurely peeled back into a silent snarl with his neck hairs stiffening when the fire consumes the twig in an instant.

~There are places for the fires of this world, but one corrupted by the wyrm has no place and will be destroyed.~ Stone-Spirit looks toward the bristling fire spirit, more tense now than she was upon her first arrival.

The fire elemental repeats itself. ~It matters not to us who rules the fire, so long as there is the fire.~ The sparking, hissing flames press onwards. ~Fire brings life. Fire brings death. Fire bring joy. Fire brings pain. Fire destroys. And fire purifies.~ The stick pulled in earlier is already reduced to nothing but glowing ashes. ~We offer a compromise. Let the fire burn, and we will betray the others in the fire that you do not wish there. Let it burn, and we will see that it burns as pure as can be. Let it burn. We care not who it burns for.~

Pierces Ice's eyes flick toward her packmate, giving him a small bob of her head before taking a half step back, letting the Gatekeeper take point, but her lips pull back in a small grin.

Power-Up cocks his head on one side, obviously considering. ~Must the fire be there? We could build you another fire, a bright clean fire, and keep it safe from corruption for you to dance in its flames.~

*I am gatekeeper, they will not speak.* Circle Keeper growls, partially to the others, his free hand slashing through the air behind him as he aggressively waves them to 'cut it out.' *If we were to accept your accord, you must care who it burns for. We will not let it burn for the wyrm.*

From afar, to the room, Circle Keeper notes the spirit speech is also in Mother's tongue, so you all understand what CK's saying.

Stone-Spirit watches the flame with fire in her own gaze. As the gatekeeper takes point, she listens carefully, but ripples with new tension.

Savages-Enemy is a bit restless, but he keeps his silence. Besides, silence is something that this Cliath is good at.

The small fire elemental focuses its two glowing red ember eyes on the gatekeeper. ~We care not for who the fire burns. If you let it burn, we will turn on those you do not wish to see in it. We will purify it with our flames as best we can. Let it burn and we are allies.~

Circle Keeper's muzzle juts slightly. *It is not my place to accept. Allow us to decide.* Squinting his eyes as the staring-into-fire starts to get to him, he adds, *We will be brief in deciding; We will make a burning in offering to you while we decide.*

Pierces Ice's large paw-hands grasp the thong around her neck as she takes a further backward step. She lifts the thong until the fang is within her sight. For a moment it glows, and then dims. Small spots of grey appear and she lets her gaze turn from one to another of the Garou, and then to the Elemental itself. With a flick of her ears, and a tightening around her jaw, she lets the fang drop back within her fur.

Stone-Spirit, true to her heritage, seems adamantly against this idea, and the tense posturing she shows might suggest that. She looks to the others that are gathered, nostrils flaring and fists balled tightly.

The fire elemental flickers briefly and then settles down as the offering of something to burn is added. ~We will wait, but cannot stay long.~ It finds a nearby leaf to consume, leaving only the glowing 'skeleton' to fall to the ground.

Power-Up sits carefully down on his huge hispo haunches, and considers recent events. His head turns to the Gatekeeper in silent query.

Circle Keeper turns sharply, facing the others, and Kevin in particular. ~Power in the Darkness: Run to wendigo territory, do not enter and howl for my cub to give you some of my hides. Go. RUN.~ Walking away from the vents, he adds to the others, ~Speak quickly about it. I would say, away from here.~

Stone-Spirit moves slightly away, looking to the others as they ready discussion. Her voice is low, but a growl lies persistent. ~They will purify it 'as best they can'. That is not good enough. It must be destroyed - the wyrm has festered too deeply there.~

Pierces Ice moves away as well, her gaze lingering on the elemental for a long moment. To Stone Spirit she says, ~If we accept their offer, but give our aide, we can defeat the Wyrm and leave them a pure burning fire.~

Circle Keeper watches the others head off to discuss the matter, and he, himself, heads back over to the fire elemental. Eyes squinted nearly shut, he begins to talk to the spirit in a low tone.

Stone-Spirit grunts, ~A pure burning fire would soon be handled by the humans, and our agreement broken by no means of our own.~

Pierces Ice's muzzle wrinkles. ~That is not our agreement. We make no oath to keep the fire burning. We agree to leave it be, so long as it is pure, and no Wyrm is present.~

Power-Up reverts to lupus on Circle Keeper's command and breaks into a run, heading off in the direction indicated by the Uktena at his top speed. Which is quite a speedy speed.

Savages-Enemy remains with his ears perked as he remains looking guarded.

The fire elemental, after Circle Keeper speaks with it, disipates and shrinks back into one of the steam vents, leaving a small scorched patch on the ground.

A moments thought is given, and the Get tosses her head. ~If that can be agreed upon, and our aide welcome in the fight to purify it, then I would be agreeable to such actions.~

Circle Keeper calls for the Glass Walker to stop as the spirit vanishes.

Circle Keeper visibly deflates, his eyesight pretty much well and shot from looking into the light. Shifting down to lupus, he manoeuvres by nose back over to the others. When you have decided, the spirit waits in the spirit-lands. he tells the other two. Going to get things for fire, he tells them (mostly his packmate), before lumbering off.

Pierces Ice grunts wordlessly, drawing her arms up across her chest.

Power-Up wheels round in a loop as he's called back from his abortive errand, and trots more easily back into the caern. He sniffs at the burnt grass and scorched earth where the spirit had its temporary abode.

Let it see what sort of fire we can build it, Power-Up suggests after having given the grass a good snuffling. Perhaps it will like our fire better than the Wyrm fire.

Savages-Enemy sniffs and looks across to Power-Up. There isn't something that you could put fire in? His tail does an occasional flicker.

Pierces Ice's fingers scratch at her upper arms. ~Why? What would you burn that would not cause more harm to Gaia's body? Why not leave what already burns, and let it be clean? Let us ally with the spirits, and gain their favor for the future, as well.~

~The scab fires, if pure, would be extinguished. And if it can help us cleanse that fire, it is much needed help that is offered.~ Stone-Spirit rumbles quietly.

Power-Up points out that he did not suggest burning for the sake of burning. Trees die, or drop branches, he points out. They can be burnt carefully without harming Gaia.

Pierces Ice's lips curl in a snarl at the Glass Walker. ~You do not think. The fire spirits would not care for a branch or a single fallen tree. What they have now has power. It holds great stretches of the earth, and the fuel is not consumed so easily as a branch. You would have to build a fire to rival that, to even gain their attention, and that would harm Grandmother.~

Stone-Spirit looks between Wendigo and Walker, ~If the spirits will help us cleanse what already burns, then we will take their aid. -Only- if they agree to our being there to ensure the fire is cleansed. Once it burns pure, the humans can handle it. If they do not... the fire will once again draw the corruption of the wyrm.~ She pauses in thought, ~The spirits which offer help must work to keep that from happening as well, or we will come once more to deal with this blight. I need to speak with the others to tell them this change, can the rest of you see that the spirits will agree to this?~

Pierces Ice's tongue flicks out to touch the black skin of her lips. ~The Gatekeeper and I will see to it. We will give our Oath to help destroy the Wyrm within the blaze, and while it burns pure to leave it be. They will agree to destroy the Wyrm, and to keep the blaze pure. They will agree to accept our aid, should the Wyrm come again to claim their burning.~

We should not obey every whim of a spirit just because it is a spirit, opines Power-Up. Spirits can be wrong, yes. I do not think this spirit knows how bad the fire we fight is.

Pierces Ice again snarls at the Glass Walker. ~It is better to fight with them as allies, than as opposition. They will fight to rid the blaze of the Wyrm, rather than fight us to keep the blaze alive. It does not matter how tainted the fire, we gain an ally and lose nothing.~

Power-Up adopts a subservient pose as he walks towards Pierces Ice. Of course, yes, yes, you are right. Spirits are good allies when we are able. But I still do not think this spirit sees and hears and scents the full panorama... as we do.

Pierces Ice grunts a verbal shrug. ~It does not matter. It will work on our side.~

Then may our alliance be a happy one, the lupus-bodied Glass Walker hopes. I was seeking you, Pierces-Ice-rhya, when the spirit came.

Pierces Ice looks down at the wolf, finally letting her claws release from her upper arms, and drift down to her sides as she slides down into homid, herself. "Ii?"

When Jacinta returns to her birthform, Kevin follows suit politely. "I spoke with KL," he explains once he's done shifting, "as you asked, Jacinta-rhya. She promised that she would come and find you as soon as she could. Perhaps tomorrow night. Or has she already done so?" He gestures to the fetish that hangs visibly around Jacinta's neck.

Jacinta nods initially, but then her brows draw downward and her hand rises to the necklace. "Qang'a," she says with a shake of her head. "This is the one I showed to you, before. The one that Forath-Ripper brought as his Chiminage."

"And you still need another?" One of Kevin's eyebrows rises perceptibly. "Well, KL will speak to you about it. Matter's out of my hands now."

Jacinta's own gaze grows harder. "I do not need it for myself. The Guardians have need of it. Chimera warned of tainted Garou and Kin, and we have only this one way to root it out and defend the Caern." She points at the pale grey spots, still evident along the surface of the tooth. "And it will not function again until I have meditated, here, uninterrupted. Even with two, we will be sorely challenged in our duties."

"Understood," Kevin says smoothly, "and may your meditation bring you wisdom, Jacinta-rhya." He prods with one toe-end the scorched patch of grass. "Circle Keeper is bringing fuel for the fire? I hope he can find enough."

Jacinta nods. "He will bring items of value. Size is not so important as worth."

"True, that," concedes Kevin. "A little match can start a fire that burns a forest... Well, since you seem to have things well under control here as ever, shall I go tell KL that you await here in this vicinity?"

Jacinta gives another nod. "Ii. Quyana. I will wait here."

"Hey! KL! Quit the Steve McQueen impression and come let me in!"

Greek House: Common Area(#2409RAJh$)
This is the central hub of the house. From here, you can still see the entrance foyer, as well as the stairway that heads to the second story. Towards the back of the common area is a set of glass doors that lead out to a courtyard. To the east, an arched doorway leads to what apparently serves as a library, office, and workroom, and to the west, an arched doorway leads to what appears to be a kitchen and dining area..
There are several chairs here, simple, elegant, yet functional in their design and intent. The room has a comfortable feel to it, but is a bit ascetic in design. The walls are off-white, the molding dark cherry wood and decorated with acanthus-leaf ornamentation at the corners. A pair of antique spears are hung crossed against each other on one wall, and a wall-relief depicting a scene of Grecian warriors hangs on the other. Above the mantle of the fireplace is a small statue of Artemis, on either side of that, dark metal candlesticks with ivory pillar candles. The entire room is a study in the contrast of light and dark.

This afternoon finds KL slumped on a seat, in the main room of the Fury house, facing a wall. On her left hand is a worn, battered, brown leather baseball glove. In her right is an equally worn rubber ball. Bounce, thump, catch. She throws the ball at the floor, making it rebound off the wall back to her waiting mitt. Rinse, repeat. Over and over. The sound of bounce-thump-catch is clearly audible through the front door.

Some people knock on the door when they want entry to a house. Others, it seems, possibly attracted to the window by the odd rhythmic noise from inside tap on it and shout through the open pane at the top. "Hey! KL! Quit the Steve McQueen impression and come let me in!" Kevin would appear to be one of the latter.

KL starts out of her reverie, and misses the catch, causing the ball to take her full on the face. Good job it's not travelling very fast. She bounds to her feet and opens the door. "Heya trouble," she says, managing a fairly warm smile. "What brings you out here?"

"Two reasons," Kevin says. "Well, three... One is it's always good to see you. The second is, it's less than a week now to the biggest fight of my life..." He looks rather pensive at the prospect, and doesn't go on to elaborate on the third reason.

"It is?" KL says, stepping back from the door to allow the Glasswalker entry. "Biggest fight? The Tire Fire?" She studies her fingers carefully. "And I only count two reasons. And although I'm fucking crap at Math, I don't think that equals three."

Kevin nods. "And as you doubtless know, for my many and manifold sins, I get to draw the fire. 'Fire' here being literal. But hell, I'm a garou, if I get turned to burnt toast, Gaia will gather my soul in and have me reborn someday." He shrugs, as though this knowledge doesn't go far towards consoling him. "Oh, the third reason. I saw Jacinta yesterday."

"Oh?" The Fury replies, throwing herself back onto her seat facing the wrong way. She gestures at a chair. "What did she want with a wyrmcomer?" She pauses. "I'll be there. The tire fire."

Kevin evidently draws much more consolation from that fact than he did his theological statement a moment ago. "No kidding? Oh, awesome. I'll look forward to it more if you're there. Jacinta-rhya asked me for something," he goes on, "something I no longer possess, because I judged myself no longer worthy to care for it, and gave it you."

KL looks confused. "You did?" She furrows her brow and wrinkles her nose up thoughtfully. "Hmm. Not sure I remember. What was it?"

"I used to wear it round my neck," Kevin prompts the ahroun. "The fetish which I gave you before I made my... abortive attempt to quit the Sept."

"Oh yeah. That." KL says, offhandedly. "What did I do with it?" She bites her bottom lip. "If you were me, where would you have put it?"

Kevin seems rather taken aback at KL's nonchalant forgetfulness. "You don't carry it round, KL?"

"Well, I was. I think I took a shower." She ponders. "That was a week ago. Hmm." She rubs her chin and screws up her eyes. "Maybe it's with my towel?"

"That thing never used to leave my body!" Kevin recalls, still clearly shocked. "You know... it shows you the Wyrm... the Wyrm that can come from any direction at any time? Sheesh." He shrugs. "Well, I guess if you value it so little, you won't mind letting Jacinta snag it."

KL's composure wavers, and she disappears in a fit of giggles. "You used to be so much easier to wind up, you know. Now all I can get is a "sheesh"." She says, between mirthful chortles. She reaches into a pocket and pulls it out. "What does she need it for?"

Kevin looks into space as he tries to recall. "She didn't say exactly, I don't think," he replies, "except I think it was something to do with the Guardians? And yeah, KL. Life's too short to get in a tizzy. My life especially."

The Fury sobers up, very quickly. "Getting in a tizzy is what I do best," she says, pointedly. "But Kevin. Don't give up. Surviving insurmountable odds. Pulling victories out from where defeat seems inevitable. It's what we do. We're the heroes, remember."

Kevin gives a half-smile. "Someone's gonna die this weekend. I just know it. Could be either of us, or Basil... or someone else. But no way are we coming out of this one unscathed. Oh, sure I think we'll kick its ass too, which I guess is all that counts... but I don't want to die, or lose friends."

"If someone dies, they die," KL says, with a little grimace. "But we gotta do what we gotta do. And... don't ever think that it's your time. Go kicking and screaming and die hard. Like..." She looks very sad, staring at the floor. "You know."

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light?" Kevin quotes, his inflection rising to turn the line of poetry into a query.

"Yeah, that sums it up quite nicely. Or possibly 'beat the crap out of anything that moves until it or we don't anymore." KL looks puzzled. "That didn't come out quite right. You get the point, though."

Kevin smacks one fist into his other palm gently. "Sure I get it," he says. "And they'll get our points. And my totem's. Wait till you see what Patches has up his raccoony sleeve. You'll puke, KL, it's so awesome."

KL looks interested. "I'll puke? I've not done that for ages. Not since the... well, there was lots of drink and the world went a bit spinny." She grins. "I just hit the thing I'm pointed at, but it would be nice to know the plan."

"Figure of speech," assures Kevin. "So... you gonna pony up to Jacinta, or do you want to give her the third degree first about what she wants the Wyrm's Tooth for?"

"Well, I assume it's a good reason," KL says. "I'll take it out to her. Any idea where I'm likely to find her? And any idea how urgent it is?"

"Guardian," Kevin says laconically, "hence bawn. And since this is Jacinta-rhya, it's as important as she decides it is at whatever moment you ask her. I don't think she's in a good temper at present. Some new guy from the Bone Gnawers stood up to her majesty."

KL nods. "I'll get it out to her as soon as I can. Unless you want to take it back?" She looks intently at the Glasswalker ragabash, leaning forward on her chair, eyebrows raised.

Kevin smiles slyly. "You know," he says in a sort of dreamy voice, the sort that hints that its user is working on a mental level of 'what if'. "If you were to give it me back now. And I were then to go back to Jacinta and tell her that you were no longer in possession of it. It would drive her completely nuts. And I wouldn't have had to tell a word of a lie." He sighs. "But that would be naughty of me, and more unforgivably, detrimental to the Sept."

The Fury continues to study Kevin, before nodding slowly. "Yes. And I'd get in a world of shit." She smiles. "So, yeah. One of us will have to beard the dragon in her lair. Or something. Shall I?"

"We could go together and lend each other moral support," Kevin suggests. "Give us time to catch up with each other s'more. Y'know I can't tell you how good it is," he adds, "to hear you sounding the way you ought again."

KL screws her mouth up. "Some days are better than others," she admits. "I'm still... upset." She looks sad, again. "I just wish... she didn't tell it all, Kevin. She was more interested in whether I'd done it deliberately." This last word is almost spat. "Not what I did when I found out. I deserved to be punished, because I screwed up. But I thought... I thought I had some more credit than that. And I thought I deserved to have the whole story told, rather than just the bad bit."

Kevin looks at KL with a long slow look. "Tell me," he invites her. "You know me. I'm not one to condemn you lightly. I know you too well."

"Alesia wanted to go to the caern. She was...troubled...and I thought it would calm her down. I assumed that someone else had her checked out, when she was at the farm. Thought it would be normal procedure. I should have checked, and I should have asked," she shrugs. "But I didn't. Anyway, remember that I had a row with Gunnar, and I fought him? And lost. And I crawled back her, and Laura was here, and she patched me up. And she'd checked out Alesia while I'd been gone, and told me. And I turned and ran for the door, still bleeding everywhere, and I sprinted and sprinted for the caern, howling for a Guardian. And Circle Keeper came and I told him everything." This all came in a rush. "I tried to make it right as soon as I could. Didn't hide it or anything. And I got smashed into next week. And nobody stood up and said "we screwed up too"". She looks thoroughly miserable at this. "I really did screw up, Kevin. I've never denied it. Told the whole truth the whole time."

Kevin winces at the mention of the fight with Gunnar. "That was my fault," he murmurs sotto voce as KL continues the story. When the ahroun finishes, he looks a mix of contrite and sympathetic. "I guess it's like nodding off at the wheel. Almost always you wake up again and you're fine. One time in a thousand you run into something. One time in a million, you drive onto a railway in the path of an oncoming train and wreck it and kill dozens of people..."

KL nods. "And I was lucky it was the middle option. I bumped something, rather than killed everything." She shrugs. "But it falls down, because I wasn't the only driver, if you know what I mean."

"Have you spoken to the other drivers since?" Kevin enquires.

"No," KL says. "I haven't seen them. Or looked for them." She shrugs. "Some of it is no longer relevant. One of the drivers has lost her licence, or something." She looks a bit confused. "I think I'm losing the thread of this."

The metaphor drops to the floor and expires. Kevin looks down as though watching its death throes. "Well," he consoles KL in a Job's comfortorish way, "you didn't come off the rails as badly as I did."

KL nods. "Kevin. Do you think what they did to you was right? I mean, really?"

For a moment, despite the thinness of Luna, a savagery comes into Kevin's eyes that might scare the boldest ahroun. And in another second it's gone again. "Strictly between ourselves," he murmurs, complete control showing once more, "I feel a little hard done by."

The Fury Ahroun blinks. "It just doesn't make sense to me. It's like...they couldn't punish some people, because they ran away, so they beat up the people who did stay still. And... it doesn't feel like justice to me. Any of it. It feels like a bloody overreaction. I mean, I'm not a philodox, I'm an ahroun. I see things in black and white. I hit things until they start making squishy noises. But it's like they didn't put you back on the rails, they blew up the bridges ahead of you. I always thought the first bit of the litany was..." She pauses. "Do you actually want me to bang on about this?"

Kevin waves a hand very graciously. "It's good to know someone isn't howling for my blood."

KL looks very pensive. "Can I tell you something?" She whispers. "You have to promise not to tell anyone else. Ever. Or I'll...well, do something painful."

Kevin's eyes narrow at that. "I don't have a good track record of keeping secrets, as you should recall given what we've just been discussing. But I'll do my best, for sure."

The Fury takes a deep breath. "I'm in love with Emma. Have been forever. It doesn't matter, cos she's not... that way inclined. And I wouldn't know what to do if she was. But I am. She doesn't know, I think. And I haven't done anything wrong." Her voice is very very quiet indeed, and she studies the floor intently.

Kevin's eyes close slowly and for a long half minute he seems completely motionless, rapt. "KL," he says eventually, "thank you for trusting me. You're a mad fool to do it, but thank you for it." His eyes snap open and with the motion comes an abrupt change of mood. "Yeah... Emma's a babe, ain't she?" he smiles.

"I've always trusted you, Kevin," KL says. "And yes, she is. But... she's more than that. She's one of my two best friends ever. And I'm not going to screw that up, because it's worth more than... other things." She shrugs. "I'd hate to lose the other one, you know."

One of Kevin's eyebrows lowers a tiny fraction as he examines the subtext in that statement of KL's. "Emma's been a good friend to me too," he confirms. "Sometimes she's a bitch, but isn't every garou when Luna tugs their strings? With her in charge this weekend, we must have as good a chance of offing that fire bane as any."

"Yeah. And I'll be at her side." KL says, with a grin. "No mercy." She throws a mock punch at mid-air. "It'll be glorious."

"And I'll be running round ahead of you," Kevin says, his mind's eye plainly visualising the scene. "Drawing fire, fast-footing it all over, so fast the bastards can't touch me... and you guys wipe them up from behind."

"And you'll survive. Because you won't let Emma down by dying on her big day." KL says with a grin. "And then we'll celebrate our victory." She leans back, and puts her arms behind her head.

"While we're talking wishlists," Kevin reminds KL, "let's have Basil in there fighting by you and Emma, kicking so much ass nobody can claim he's unworthy, and coming out without a scratch. Or a battlescar mebbe."

"Can I still find him irritating?" KL asks, still grinning. "But yes. He should be there too. We may be the number one criminals in this sept, but by Gaia are we going to kick some fucking ass."

"He gets on my last nerve sometimes," Kevin admits freely, "so sure you can. My whole pack is nothing but charachs and metis, but we'll damn well show them, charachs and metis can fight as well as any garou. Better."

KL says nothing, but raises an eyebrow and smiles, eyes suddenly bright.

Kevin cocks his head on one side in an equally silent query.

"Better?" The Fury Ahroun enquires sweetly.

Kevin gives a sly smile. "We're more used to having to be sneaky. Not just plowing in like a steamroller with teeth."

KL takes a very deep breath. "This is revenge for the fang thing, isn't it?" she says, obviously controlling her temper with an effort. "Fucking ragabash."

Kevin drops the jocular tone. "Hell, KL," he is quick to assure her, "I didn't mean you. No offence? Pax?"

"Pax," KL agrees. "Now, when should we get the fang to Jacinta?" She relaxes back into her seat, with a sigh.

"Sooner the better," Kevin decides. "Don't want to give her an excuse to come down on us breathing righteous Wendigo fire. Go look on the bawn tomorrow? I could do with chilling out for a bit."

KL nods. "Cool. I'll go out for a run tomorrow. These things sometimes take quite a long time, I've found." She shrugs. "I could use the exercise for sure."

"I'll run with you," Kevin offers. "And we'll face the bold bad Wendigo together? Should be practice for Saturday if nothing else," he adds wryly.

"For sure," KL says. "Well, hopefully not too good practice. It is only the bawn we're running on."

"Three moons ago, I was judged unfit to hold it by the most powerful of judges in the world... myself."

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.

Cole flashes a silent grin to his Alpha, returning the greeting with a respectful nods that's at odds with the smile.

Fred keeps working on brushing the crumbs out of his beard, not that it will ever be all that clean. "So, we gonna get this over with."

The Fang begins to glow from within. The discoloration and pale yellow of the enamel fade beneath the pure white light that emanates from the Fetish. Jacinta gives a small nod as it once again begins to fade, and replaces the necklace. She continues to eye the Bone Gnawer with suspicion, however.

Since the fateful moot that led to his disgrace, Kevin has not been a frequent sight at the Caern. But here he is now, strolling in sedately, taking note of those already present and raising an eyebrow as at least one of them proves unfamiliar to him.

Circle Keeper relaxes marginally after a few moments, though he picks up, and readily duplicates, his pack alpha's suspicion. Noes sniffs at the air a few times, tepidly.

From the rock outcropping, Blackriver seems to be of similar mind with Fred. Slowly, she shifts upwards into hispo, head turning to give the assembled a brief look over. ~We are here for a challenge.~ She begins. ~Not long ago the Bone Gnawer and the Guardian Untangler where arguing over the possession of a fetish. Untangler challenged the Bone Gnawer for it, but he refused it. So Untangler asked me to judge whether the challenge stood, and I said that it did. Now the Bone Gnawer challenges me over that decision. We will argue the decision and you, the gathered decide who is right.~

Jacinta's arms cross over her chest, looking from the lupus to the Bone Gnawer. Her brows pull downward and her jaw sets. Slowly, and with great deliberation, she shifts upward until she reaches Crinos form.

Fred wrinkles up his nose and shifts up into Glabro. ~Well, that ain't quite right. I was explorin' the Bawn an' I came across this wolf. Seemed intent on blockin' my path, so I introduced myself. The wolf didn't an' turned inta the war form instead, demandin' ta know where I got the necklace I was wearin'. Was hootin' an' hollerin' an' generally makin' a fuss. I backed off, not really wantin' ta cause a fuss. You showed up,~ The Bone Gnawer gerks his head toward Blackriver. ~An' I didn't get any introduction from you. Even after I was told ta shift, as ya don't understand English all that well. Got Challenged fer ma Fetish an' told that Horace fellow he had no claim ta my Fetish. Blackriver here says he does, so I'm Challengin' her fer that ruling.~

Fred pages to the room: He does speak with an accented Mother's Tongue. It has had over 150 years to mutate since Fred was around. :)

From the rock outcropping, Blackriver's ears flick in annoyance and taps the rock lightly with one of her paws, obviously a bit thrown off by Fred's strange accent. ~Untangler told me his tribe claimed a right to that fetish. I do not know much about the Wendigo, but if he thinks his tribe has a right to it, and the Bone Gnawer does not, there should be a challenge over whether the tribe does. That is what a challenge is.~

Pierces Ice's eyes narrow further at Blackriver's expanded explanation, and she turns her gaze once more to Fred, the tips of her teeth showing beneath tense lips.

Fred shrugs his shoulders. ~The Fetish wasn't made by the Wendigo, or the Uktena, accordin' ta him. Ain't seein' how he has a right ta it, as it has been in a Bone Gnawer's hands fer over a hundred an' fifty years.~

Kevin, having observed and listened for a little time, makes his way over towards Cole and stage-whispers to the Fianna. "Bit of a low moon for a pissing contest," is his comment.

Cole raises a single brow at Kevin's comment and has to supress a smirk. He nods. "Just a bit," he mutters in return. "But should be interesting to see how it plays out."

Circle Keeper walks a few paces closer to the contest, head tipping to one side with squinted eyes at the pair of philodox, clearly curious.

From the rock outcropping, Blackriver leans forward a bit on her haunches, looking a tad bit more intimidating to those at the center thanks to her perch on the rock above. ~Untangler said it was of his tribe's sibling tribes, the one that is dead. So his tribe claims a right to it by blood and spirit, so he can challenge to see if his right is true. By saying only those of a the tribe that made the fetish have a right to it, then no one has a right to that fetish, because the tribe is dead.~

Pierces Ice's ears turn backward, the silent snarl drawing larger across her muzzle. One foot rises and stamps against the ground impatiently.

Fred shakes his head. ~Naw. That ain't right. Tell me, iffin' you found a Fetish belongin' ta a White Howler a long time back an' ya earned it through sweat an' blood, would ya be lettin' a Fianna Challenge you fer it? Cause the two Tribe came from the same place? It doesn't mean that no Tribe has no right ta it, it means all Tribes have equal right. We are all Garou, all of us are Gaia's Kids. I earned it fair an' square a long time back. Its mine. My territory an' that is somethin' that should be respected.~

Kevin jerks a thumb at Fred and goes on to Cole, still in a whisper that's clearly audible round the caern, "So who's that guy?"

Circle Keeper's lips peel up, a low growl issuing from his throat for a moment as he paces closer.
Coward, the Wendigo Elder's posture screams as she drops down to all fours and turns her gaze away from the Bone Gnawer.

From the rock outcropping, Blackriver is clearly somewhat annoyed now, shifting her weight back and forth on her paws. ~I do not know much about the Wendigo.~ She repeats. ~But Untangler called the dead tribe his brother tribe. To them it is more than living together, the Fianna did not call the White Howlers their brothers. Also.~ Her ears cup forward a bit. ~The Croatan were dead when you had the fetish, you took it from another tribe. Probably Untanglers, he can challenge you for something you took from his tribe, even if it was long ago.~

Fred scowls. ~Now yer accusin' me of stealin' an' I did no such thing.~

From the rock outcropping, Blackriver's face twist into a snarl. ~No! I am not! You said you killed some Garou who attacked you and took the fetish from them. The tribe of the Garou you killed can try to get it back! That is what I am saying!~

Pierces Ice settles into a crouch facing mostly away from the Bone Gnawer. The snarl on her muzzle remains as her ears twitch backward.

Circle Keeper's eyes go wide at that news, turning his gaze towards Fred sharply, lips curling.
Fred shakes his head. ~What I told ya is this. I was attacked, with no reason, or warnin'. No Challenge, or nothin'. Just some feller jumpin' out from behind a rock with other fellers an' tryin' ta kill me an' some folks in the middle of winter. They lost. S'all there is to it. There ain't nothin' that says I gotta give anythin' back from that. They attacked without warning, or proper Challenge. Still, attackin' in itself is a Challenge and I won. A Challenge for this Fetish already occurred and I won. He can't go Challengin' me fer it, when it has already been Challenged over an' I won.~

Kevin rubs his hands together as he watches events develop. He gives Cole a wink with the eye that's further away from Jacinta and Circle Keeper.

A low growl begins to grow in the Wendigo Ahroun's throat. Hairs along her spine bristle just slightly, and the tension in her shoulders increases. Clawed fingers dig into the soil before her.

From the rock outcropping, For a moment, Fred's logic stops Blackriver in her tracks. It's as though she knows something is wrong, something is off, her fur bristles and her teeth are showing, but it takes a bit for the wheel in her head to crank out the logic behind her feeling. ~No.~ She growls. ~No, no, no. That is not how it works. It may have been a challenge, but it was an informal one. And even if you win a challenge, you can be challenged again. A leader cannot only be challenged only once by the those who wish to lead. And you can be challenged many times for your fetish. You cannot-~ She pauses for a moment. ~You should not be challenged many times, close together, after you have proven yourself over and over, but this is not close together. You said- you said yourself, you have not been challenged for a long, long time.~

Fred shakes his head once again. ~By that logic, I will be Challenged again and again until I eventually lose. By that path, there is only Chaos. If I was ta take Horace's Challenge and was ta win, a few moons would pass and I'd be challenged again and again. Challenged close together or not, I'd loose eventually. I ain't a leader an' this ain't an issue of leadership, so don't go spoutn' that law at me. This has ta do with Territory. Informal or not, a Challenge was issued and I won. By your logic, I could attack this feller fer no reason,~ he points at Kevin, ~And end up dead. An' a Bone Gnawer'd be able ta Challenge him fer somethin' earned proper-like.~

"This feller" holds up his hands disarmingly. "Whoa, dude," Kevin protests. "I'm just the peanut gallery, here."

From the rock outcropping, Blackriver's head jerks back. ~No, no, no!~ She growls again, ~That is not what I am saying!~ Her voice has this tone to it, like she can't believe Fred is so stupid as to not understand what she's trying to say. ~You can be challenged again, for anything. Because we are a people who live by strength and wit and wisdom, and those who do not have the strength and wit and wisdom cannot have...~ She searches for the word. ~They cannot have special things! A fetish is a special thing, to have one is a honor, like leadership. So yes, you can be challenged for it. Yes, more than once! You can refuse a challenge, yes, but the one you refused can come to a half-moon and ask that their challenged be accepted if the half-moon deems it right. And Untangler came to me.~

Circle Keeper's hackles ruffle as the two philodox exchange words. Kevin's protests get his attention for the moment, head pivoting over to look at the ragabash.

Cole shakes from his reverie and grins at Kevin. "Huh. Happen to have a CD player I could challenge you for?" This is asked in an undertone before he goes back to listening.

~I'm jus' usin' ya fer an example, boy, nothin' personal.~ Fred states, flashing a yellow toothed grin in Kevin's direction. ~An' I'm sayin' yer wrong. I'm just as much of a half-moon as you are. Ma point is the Fetish did not belong ta Horace's ancestors an' he didn't make it, so can't make any claim by Spirit or Blood. Iffin' he could prove ta me that the Fetish belonged ta an ancestor, I'd happily accept his Challenge. Does anyone here have a Fetish?~ Fred asks the crowd as a whole.

Pierces Ice's head swings around to glare at Fred, but then her jaw snaps closed on her growl and the glare shifts momentarily to the Fianna. She turns again away from the Bone Gnawer, her posture again screaming out her thoughts. Coward. Dishonor.

Cole has the good grace to look momentarily chastened by the Wendigo Elder's glare. This lasts only until Fred asks his question. He gives a lift of his chin and takes a half step forward. "I do."

Kevin 's eyes catch Circle Keeper's as the Uktena looks at him, and for a moment the two look at each other, one pure rural garou, the other pure urban. It's Kevin who breaks eye contact and looks away, turning to Cole instead and making a 'pfft' noise.

Circle Keeper's head tilts to the side when Kevin locks eyes with him, more confused than anything. Ears skewing to either direction, he continues to look confused after Kevin breaks the look. Fred's question calls his attention back.

From the rock outcropping, Blackriver flicks her ears in impatience and watches to see what Fred's point is in signaling out her packmate.

Fred nods, flashing the Fianna an apologetic grin. ~Then by Blackriver's ruling, I Challenge you fer yer Fetish.~

"At last!" is the comment from Kevin in the peanut gallery, perhaps a shade softer than some of his previous ones, but still fairly audible.

Circle Keeper's voice raises into a growl: Howls-For-Glory's fetish has always been in Howls-for-Glory's tribe. Bone Gnawer cannot show it was ever in his tribe.

Pierces Ice's growl remains low as she watches Cole, still not looking at Fred.

Cole responds by rising into his warform. One hand clutches at the pendant around his throat. ~It is as Circle-Keeper-rhya says, Gnawer. This was made by my tribe, by my very bloodline. I would not accept any challenge for it. I have claim to it. But Untangler-yuf seems to have forgotten the golden rule. Do unto others. He has no direct claim. He should have offered something in trade, a fair bargain, rather than to try to take it from someone who has nothing to his name but that.~ There's an ironic tone to his words, if ever a Crinos could manage it. ~His people's past should have taught him the lesson that might and wit do not make right with property that is not yours.~

From the rock outcropping, Blackriver is suddenly full of movement, she looks as though she's about to leap forward, but stops herself before completing the action, settling for snapping the air with her jaws angrily. ~You are stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! You have no claim to Howls-for-Glory's fetish, but Untangler has a claim to your fetish. It was in his tribe, or a tribe he claims as brother. It is blood and spirit that ties him to the fetish. As a Bone Gnawer, you cannot understand, but the tribes with blood and the honor of their ancestors to uphold have a duty to uphold it! If Howl's fetish was one of the Silver Fang's, I would challenge him for it!~

~What does that have to do with it? Horace can not show it was ever in his.~ Fred asks, turning to speak with Circle Keeper. ~It is something special. 'A fetish is a special thing, to have one is a honor, like leadership. So yes, you can be challenged for it.'~ Fred repeats the Silver Fang's earlier statement. ~I could just as easily call the Rail Riders Brother!~ Fred responds. ~I will accept Horace's Challenge if he can prove to me that the Fetish was once held by a Wendigo!~

Pierces Ice's growl is cut with a snarl as Cole finishes speaking. She rises, now, and faces him and Fred both. ~You are a coward, and a fool,~ she finally says to the Gnawer. ~You give challenge terms before you will accept a challenge. You know nothing, you understand less.~

Kevin stands well aside as Cole takes crinos form, and he sits on a boulder, fidgeting a little till he's comfortable. He gives Fred a slow nod as though to acknowledge that he has a point, then Jacinta earns herself a wry look which seems to convey that he admires her spirit, whether or not he agrees with her words.

Fred shakes his head and tugs at his forest of a beard. ~Sorry 'bout the Challenge Cole, I withdraw it. Yer right in sayin' I have no claim an' I'm acceptin' of that. No, I give no terms. I am saying that he has to offer proof to me that he has claim to the Fetish. Otherwise, there is nothing that demands I accept his Challenge!~ Fred snaps. ~It does not matter. This is endin' here. I'm gonna be closin' my eyes an' ya all are gettin' a vote. Majority wins.~ That stated, Fred promptly closes his eyes.

From the rock outcropping, Blackriver is all tense, angry, and bristling. ~You twist my words! You twist my words and you are a stupid!~ She turns toward the crowd. ~This Bone Gnawer has admitted that this fetish once belong to a one of the tribes that calls themselves the Pure Ones. Perhaps Untangler should have handled it differently, but that is not the point! What he did matters, and he has a right to do matters. She pauses. ~But by the terms on the challenge, what does the crowd say?~

Howls-For-Glory inclines his head toward the Gnawer. ~I accept your apology and your withdrawal.~ He only briefly meets Pierces-Ice's eyes before looking away in submission. Fred's last words get an expression of surprise from the Fianna. When his pack Alpha asks the question, he waits in silence for the moment.

Circle Keeper shifts into hispo, the Fostern stretching long. ~The Bone Gnawer says it belonged to the tribe, but now says Untangler must prove it belonged to the tribe before he can challenge. The Bone Gnawer speaks out of both ends of his body. I say the Silver Fang is correct.~

Pierces Ice jabs a clawed finger toward the Bone Gnawer. ~You were challenged. Honorably. You chose dishonor and did not accept. The Philodox was called and judged it an honorable challenge. You will not accept a challenge that is honorably given, but you will challenge the decision of a judge. You are a coward and a fool. As Master of the Challenge, I say Blackriver has the right of it. Untangler's challenge is honorably given, and you are a litany breaker should you choose to not accept. Any territory can be taken by fair challenge. This is more, because it was made by Middle Brother, and held by Younger Brother before it was taken by you. It should not be in your hands, and challenge is right.~

Kevin's face broadens into a grin. He digs in his pocket, and pulls out a dime which he eyes for a moment before tossing it in the air in a means of calling a tough decision he's been known to use before. "Tails," he calls as it lands. "My vote goes to the Wendigo."

Howls-For-Glory shakes his heavy head. ~I have not heard it said that it was proven to be held by Wendigo. Only that Untangler said it was. I need proof before I deny someone their -earned- rewards. Perhaps Gaia even wanted it that way.~ He gives a shrug. ~My vote goes to the owner of this fetish.~

From the rock outcropping, Blackriver calms down a bit as the votes are casted, and seems quite pleased as they go to her. The Glass Walker's means of decision does earn him an odd look however.

Fred seems a fair bit disappointed and tugs at his beard. ~There ain't no dishonor in not acceptin' a Challenge fer somethin' a feller has no claim ta.~ The Bone Gnawer shrugs his shoulders. ~Majority wins. I will race Horace, but a not a race of speed. One ta see who can keep movin' the longest, before droppin' an' bein' to tired ta walk or run any more. These're terms we were both happy with an' we agreed that's what the terms would be, iffin' I lost this Challenge.~

Cole's words earn him another glare from Pierces the Ice, though she seems to be calming somewhat. Fred's terms get significant consideration through narrowed eyes. ~These terms may be acceptable. What use of gifts, fetish, and aid? What form of movement? What location?~

Circle Keeper's massive head pivots back to Kevin, again confused, but the other events take his attention back much quicker than before. His attention falls on the Master of the Challenge.

From the rock outcropping, Blackriver, looking somewhat smug, flicks her ears in acknowledgment of her victory and the terms, before vaulting off the rock, slipping down into lupus as she does so. She briefly bops her nose against Cole in affection, before heading out of the caern.

~Any form of walkin' or runnin' on yer own feet,~ Fred responds. ~No help, gifts're aid. Nothin' more aside from food're water, if ya start with it. Ya stop fer anythin' aside from a piss're a shit, ya loose.~

Howls-For-Glory is quick to grab at Blackriver's neck ruff in affectionate farewell. This time, Pierces' glare doesn't seem to phase the Fianna and indeed make him pull himself up straighter. He listens to Fred's terms with an expression of amusement.

~Is the race for time, or distance covered?~ the Wendigo asks, arms crossing over her chest.

Kevin tucks his coin back in his pocket and sits, watching the negotiations benevolently.

~I already told ya,~ Fred states, tugging viciously at his beard. ~Until one drops from bein' too tired. Horace already accepted the terms. There ain't no disagreement, so no call fer a Master of the Challenge ta step in. This ain't no Challenge fer rank.~

Pierces Ice grows still and her glare grows cold. ~I am Master of the Challenge, and it is my duty to judge your terms. I ask for clarification so that all will understand. You will watch your tone with a Fostern, and you will answer my questions when I give them. Now. I believe I understand you, but I ask for clarification. Is it simply a matter of time - the first to drop loses, or is it how much distance one covers before one drops that is important?~

~Until one drops,~ Fred repeats. ~Its time. Distance is a fickle thing ta be measurin'. It is my understandin' that it is only yer duty ta set terms, if there are folk who can't come ta them on their own, or Rank is involved. That is my understandin' as a half-moon an' what I was sayin'.~ As before, the Bone Gnawer tugs violently at his beard. ~Thinkin' that covers everythin'. Is there anythin' else you'd be needin' ta know?~

Circle Keeper's tail starts to raise, muzzle wrinking up slightly at Fred's words. Shaking it out of his posture, he starts to lumber off towards the pool again.

Pierces Ice grunts with a wrinkle of her muzzle and turns away from the Gnawer, dismissing him.

"Guess that was a no," Kevin drawls quietly to himself as Pierces Ice turns her back on Fred.

Circle Keeper slows as he passes the others, bending his head to lap up water from the pool.

Howls-For-Glory drops down into his birthform once more and turns to go. He gives Kevin a quick nod as he goes. "Guess so."

Pierces Ice takes a few deep breaths and then slides down into homid. After a moment she turns to face the Glass Walker. She considers him for a moment and then approaches. "Power-Up. You have a Fetish, also."

Kevin rises as though to follow Cole, but when the Wendigo calls his name, he turns. "Who? Me?" he says disarmingly. "Not me, Jacinta-rhya. I think you're maybe mixing me up with another Glass Walker."

Cole pauses as Kevin's addressed, turning to listen intently.

Circle Keeper's head lifts, chin dripping water as he turns over to the pair. Power-up has held fetish. Wyrm fang. he states, half insistantly.

Jacinta's eyes narrow thoughtfully. "Your tribe holds one, then? Like this." She draws out the Fang of the Wyrm to show him.

Kevin's face retains that look of sweet innocence. He shakes his head in a negative. "I once held one such," he clarifies, "but three moons ago, I was judged unfit to hold it by the most powerful of judges in the world... myself. I gave it to the garou whom I thought deserved it most, my friend KL Escapes-from-Money."

Circle Keeper's temper flares slightly when he hears this, eyes rounding out as he just looks incredulously at Kevin.

This garners an admiring chuckle from Cole. "Got that judge part right, Kevin."

Jacinta's nostrils flare. "The Guardians have need of this," she says, turning her attention to Cole. "Until that of which Chimera warns have been dealt with."

Kevin addresses Jacinta again. "My intent, three months ago, was to quit this sept," he confesses. "Don't make me go through all the circumstances again... suffice it to say that I never forgot that the fetish was not mine but the sept's and belonged here even if I did not. KL has it safe still, I am quite certain. Should you Guardians have true need of it, you may ask her for it. Or if you would rather, I shall."

Circle Keeper seems to accept the Walkers words rather easily, licking the water off his muzzle as he turns and begins to head back up the rim.

Cole nods, brows furrowing. "So indefinitely, then," he responds with gallows humor rich in his voice. "The 'sage thicket' your packmate spoke of. I'm guessing it's the hospital all over again. We're going to ambush the dream bringers the next time the moon is full."

Circle Keeper's attention, again, is caught by Cole's words. He stops and turns around to face the three as he's mentioned.

Jacinta nods, unhappy, but resigned. "Pass this word to her, then. That Fetish is needed to protect the caern."

"Jacinta-rhya," Kevin says frankly, "I'm on the case." He turns and, suiting actions to words, departs from the caern's heart not in the direction he arrived from, but heading towards the direction in which lies the Black Furies' house.

Circle Keeper turns and heas back up the trail again, this time not delaying as he leaves for the rim.

"As a garou, you are half spirit yourself. So'm I."

Odeon - Lobby(#4049RJ)
The Odeon's lobby is testament to a faded and perverted glory. The deep crimson carpet is thick in places but in others stubbly as velveteen, and the rich pattern of tangling flowers is everywhere marred by dark stains. The walls are clothed in kingly purple tatters of wallpaper, and covered with faded posters featuring women and men in various states of undress, posing with various degrees of tastelessness, and screaming out titles like "Male Service", "Bang Bang: a Sexual Explosion", and "A Slip of Her Tongue" in garish lettering. There's no light in the room but what comes in from the street, and during the day the actresses look grey and ghoulish, and the bright reds and purples of the room faded and dusky; and at night, the place might as well be covered in thick black paint.
Immediately in front of the entrance is dull matte turnstyle which no longer turns, where once tickets were taken. To the right are a pair of doors which some joker has labelled "Pimps" and "Hos" with red spraypaint: these are the washrooms. To the left are a pair of doorways which lack actual doors, and opposite is a grand set of boarded doors which lead into the theatre proper.

Edward, lounging as comfortably as possible against the theater's broken turnstile and using his folded-up sweatshirt as a makeshift headrest, takes advantage of the afternoon light filtering into the lobby to read through the stack of assorted recent newspapers piled beside him. He's currently reading a coffee-stained paper section from last Friday.

The front door to the cinema shakes back and forth, and the chains tying it shut rattle. A voice with an oddly mid-Atlantic accent then calls from outside "Kaz? Kaz, you home?"

Edward is startled by the jangling chains. He tosses the newspaper aside and scrambles up to his feet, approaching the door warily. "Who wants to know?" he replies.

A momentary pause from outside. Then, "Kevin," responds the voice. "That's not you, is it, Basil? Quit joking around and let me in."

"He's not here," Ed calls back. "Not Kaz, either."

An exasperated grunt from outside. "I didn't expect to see him in the city at this time of month, but I couldn't think of anyone else it could be. Now, do I have to stand out here with my finger in my nose all day, or are you gonna let me in?"

"I don't know if I should," the cub replies sheepishly.

"Oh for pete's sake," the voice outside says. "I've been coming here for years." The voice becomes quieter, as though its owner is speaking through the crack in the doors. "Years, I tell you. And Olga's never not let me in, nor Yi, nor Basil, nor Masao, nor Tommy Gun, nor Kaz. If you like I'll bring you a bag of broken computer bits to rummage through. Or pizza. But don't make me huff and puff and blow your house in."

The lobby is quiet for a few moments. Then the chains rustle, and the door swings ajar.
"Thank you," says the lanky youth revealed as the doors finally open, not without a hint of peevishness. He steps forward and eyes Edward. "Okay, you're not Basil," he agrees, "so who are you?"

A little under six feet tall, this teenager is squarely in the middle of his gangly, awkward phase, not looking especially strong or resilient judging by his thin arms, narrow shoulders or spindly chicken legs. His dark brown shoulder-length mop of hair is tangled and a little greasy; his light brown eyes are framed by a pair of thick eyebrows. His narrow, slightly upturned nose and wide, thin mouth are set on a round face specked with the peachfuzz stubble of adolescence. He's wearing a plain white T-shirt and a blue sweatshirt tied around his waist, and a pair of brown jean shorts with ragged hems.

Edward shoves his bangs aside. "My name's Edward," he replies. "I'm ... new here, I guess. New-ish." Impressive introduction thus complete, he offers his hand to Kevin.

Kevin cracks a smile at that. "Good to meet you," he says, shoving a hand out towards Edward's and gripping it in a tight but not bone-crushing grip for a second. He kicks the door shut with his foot as he does so. "Nobody told me you guys had a new recruit. I'm Kevin, and I'm a Glass Walker, if that means anything to you yet."

Edward's blank look reveals that it doesn't mean much yet at all. "So, uh, what brings you here?" he asks, making small talk as turns to lock up the front doors with the chain.

"I like to drop by regularly," Kevin responds. "I live not all that far away, and your guys Basil and Kaz are two of my closest friends. Kaz is helping me out with some stuff right now. Plus," he adds, "your people and my people don't tend to get on all that well, which is kind of crazy if you ask me, so I make a point of showing that I don't believe in all that nonsense by coming by when I can."

"Oh." Edward tugs on the chains to make sure they're tight, then pauses. "Your people?"

"Glass Walkers," Kevin repeats, a slight frown furrowing his brow. "Um, sorry to ask... you do know who these people are whose 'house' you're living in, yeah?"

"Oh, that kind of people," Edward realizes aloud. "Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean now," he adds sheepishly.

"Had me thinking for a moment you were some human kid the Gnawers had taken pity on," Kevin says with an exhalation of breath. "Though I couldn't see how they could have you here with Squeaks running around and all... but yeah. The Glass Walkers and Bone Gnawers are supposed to hate each other. When I was a cub, I nearly got my block knocked off for inviting Olga over to our house. I thought it sucked then, and I still think so now. City garou should stick together. Hell, all garou should."

Edward nods politely, turning his attention to his newspapers on the floor. "How many ... how many types of Garou are there, anyway?" he asks as he crouches, gathering up and folding the old paper into a neat pile.

"Depends on how you're divvying us up," Kevin replies with a grin. "Would you like it by tribe, breed, auspice or sign of the zodiac?"

Edward picks up the stack and places it on top of the turnstile. "By tribe sounds interesting."

"In that case," Kevin says with a gleeful grin, "there's twelve. Or thirteen. Or even fourteen. Depending on how you count."

Edward scoops up his sweatshirt from the floor. "That many?" he says, somewhat surprisedly.
"That many," Kevin confirms. "You Bone Gnawers and us Glass Walkers, that's two to begin with. And the third tribe that's mainly city-based, in this city if not elsewhere, is the Get of Fenris. Don't piss them off, they have shorter tempers even than the rest of us. Sheesh," he adds quietly, "I hate trying to compress every tribe down to a one sentence stereotype."

"Eh, I'll find out who they all are eventually," Ed offers. He wads up his sweatshirt and folds his arms over it.

"You'll have to," Kevin warns. "Do you want the full list from me, or would you sooner wait for one of your own people to deliver it? I'm happy either way."

"Either way, I don't mind," Edward says, shrugging. "If you don't feel like it, I won't bug you."

Kevin regards Edward with his head on one side. Then he makes a visible decision to change tack a little. "Never a problem to teach a newb," he assures the cub. "OK, how much do you know about your own tribe?"

"Well jeez, not much. Something about rats," the cub replies, drumming his fingers on his arms. "They haven't really talked too much about the history of it all."

"History's important, but not hugely so," Kevin says. "Time to learn history when you've learnt all about where your feet are planted in the here and now. Which in your tribe's case is right here, in the heart of the city's nastiest bits."

Edward nods thoughtfully. "I don't know much about St. Claire either," he adds. "I only moved here like a year and a half ago."

"Year and a half?" Kevin looks thoughtful for a moment. "Hell," he then says, "that's just about how long I've been living here."

Edward shrugs again. "I guess I've got a lot to learn, then," he concludes.

"Nil desperandum, kid," Kevin says, reaching out to punch Edward very lightly on the upper arm. "You'd be surprised how much of it falls into place once you start. Take rats," he goes on. "Why'd you think you Bone Gnawers have such an affinity for rats?"

Edward chews his lip as he thinks it over. "Well, uh, I guess rats are pretty good at living in cities, and Bone Gnawers live in cities too, maybe?" he offers.

"That's one reason," Kevin agrees. "But it goes deeper. Probably deeper than a non-Rat like me can know. But rats get everywhere," he explains, "you can't keep them out, try how you will. And you guys are like that too. You can get inside where you're not meant to be and mess things right up, which is a damn useful skill. Rats are pretty near impossible to kill, as well, and so are you lot. And... this isn't going to sound altogether complimentary, but rats breed incredibly fast, and so do Bone Gnawers. There's more of you than of almost any other tribe, I understand. Not every other tribe thinks this is a good thing, though, so don't be too smug.""

Edward makes mental notes of Kevin's points, nodding along as he follows along. After some thought, he offers a question of his own. "So if Bone Gnawers, like, are cool with rats or whatever, then what about, I dunno, Glass Walkers?"

"Another animal that's hard to kill," Kevin says, smiling once more, "is the cockroach. (Okay, it's an insect.) Roaches have been living in cities since cities have been there for them to live in, and Glass Walkers follow Mama Roach like you guys follow Mama Rat."

Edward doesn't look especially impressed with the reply, but his mild disgust passes quickly. "So all the tribes have an animal like that?"

"Totems, we call them," Kevin says, "though it's not a very good word. Makes me think of Indians. Totem spirits are more..." He shrugs for lack of words. "Intense?"

"Totem spirits, huh," Edward echoes, looking dubious. "Like, there's an actual rat spirit and roach spirit and all that, or something?"

"There's spirits in pretty much everything," Kevin confirms, "if you know how to look. As a garou, you are half spirit yourself. So'm I. We can enter the spirit world, the Umbra. But don't do that without someone else there. Can be dangerous." He tugs his tracksuit up and reveals a big, ugly scar on his midriff. "I got that in the Umbra."

Fred opens the door to the Odeon and pushes his way inside, mumbling the entire time.

Edward raises an eyebrow at Kevin's mention of the Umbra, then winces at the scar display. "It seems like almost everyone I've met here has a big scar like that somewhere," he notes. "Is that usual?"

"Entirely," Kevin says laconically, tucking his tummy back in. At Fred's entry, he turns, raising an eyebrow at the stranger.

A filthy well-beaten wide-brimmed hat is the first thing one is likely to notice about Fred. Followed by the fact that he is wearing a pair of equally filthy jeans, that are being held up by a pair of suspenders. A once white shirt is only partially closed due to missing buttons and is more of a grayish brown these days, the elbows having long since worn through. Easily visible under the shirt is a necklace made out of turtle shells, feathers, and sinew, that is easily visible to to a shirt that is lacking all but three buttons near the bottom. There are two small but clearly defined sigils on the largest and central shell. Fred's feet are adorned by well used leather boots, dark tan in color and lacking any laces. Across his shoulders, the fellow carries a well worn cloth bag that clearly holds a few items.
Fred stands at just under six feet in height and is Caucasian by descent, with a heavy brown beard that more closely resembles a small forest then facial hair. The parts of his face that are not obscured by the beard are heavily tanned and wrinkled and one would guess his age to be forty or older.

Fred continues his grumbling, tugging at his beard with his free hand. He doesn't seem to notice the others in the relatively dark Odeon, eyes focused on the floor.

"Uh, hi?" Edward offers a tentative little wave at Fred as he enters, squinting back at him.

Kevin clears his throat noisily in an obvious ploy to attract Fred's attention. "So, yeah. Me and my battlescar had better get back home," he goes on to Edward. "If Kaz or Basil show, tell 'em I'd like to see 'em?"

Fred looks up and squints into the darkness. "Howdy," he greets, tone on the surly side as he hefts the bag on his shoulder.

"Sure, sure, I'll tell them," Edward assures Kevin, smiling politely. "Nice to meet you, by the way." He then turns his attention back to Fred.

Kevin stands up and walks towards the doors, and towards Fred. "Howdy yourself," he says. "Just leaving here. Should be back later, so you know me if you need to open the door to me." He gives Edward a meaningful glance then continues doorwards.

"Kaz, I'm driving myself crazy... how the hell do I stop myself?"

The Sept Compound(#2075RAM)
Sweeping branches of trees form a sort of natural roof overshadowing most of this clearing, no more than an open space of grasses and beaten earth in the heart of the forest. Some pains have been taken to keep wear and tear on the area to a minimum, so the firepit tends to shift from time to time. The firepit, several sawn logs polished from use, and a stack of firewood discreetly piled up at the base of an old spruce under a tarp, are the only signs of constant occupation. However, a student of such things might think that some minimal landscaping or planning has been done, for the meadowlike profusion of grasses and other plants has an unusually high concentration of brilliant flowers, which attract a number of bees and butterflies.
A faint trail leads off to the east, and a bit north.

It's a fairly nice morning. Or, at least, it's not raining. Kaz is taking advantage of this fact to roast some steak tips on the fire. She's just now taking one off the stick she had pierced it on, and carefully putting it on a piece of paper towel to cool.

The sound of piercing, tuneless whistling,as Kaz probably can't fail to know after packing with him for several weeks, often portends the approach of Kevin. This time is no exception. His 'music' sounds vaguely bluesish as he wanders into the clearing, a distracted look on his face.

Kaz gets the briefest of pained looks on her face, which, given the volume of her singing at times, is a bit hypocritical. But since she's not showing the look to Kevin, that hardly matters. Instead, she calls, "Yo!" just as he wanders into the clearing, and sticks another hunklet of meat on her stick. "'Sup?"

Kevin focuses back in. "Kaz!" he shouts, and runs over to her. "Hey, packie, just the person I wanted." He flops down to the ground on the other side of the fire from the metis, and looks at her pensively. He doesn't say any more, at least not yet.

"Yeah? What's up?" Kaz moves the small mound of steakettes closer to him, and offers, "You wanna steak tip're two, g'head."

Kevin reaches out and selects one small piece of meat, holding it in his hand. "Uh," he says lamely, then "uh," again. Then he goes on "Look, Kaz. If I tell you this, you must promise... secret. Utter secret, yeah?"

Kaz takes a nub of meat herself, and pauses in the middle of raising it to her mouth to look at him for a moment. "OK," she says, and then polishes her rather small chunk off. After a moment of thought, she rummages in her pack, and produces some bread. As she unties the wrapper, she asks, "So what's up?"

Kevin is silent for several more seconds. Then he pops the morsel into his mouth and chews, equally silently. Finally he swallows and speaks. "Kaz," he says in a half whisper, "I'm driving myself crazy... how the hell do I stop myself?"

There's a pause. And then she asks, "Well, I might be able to suggest somethin' if I knew what you was drivin' yourself crazy with."

Kevin makes another long pause. He seems unable to tell his story other than at his own pace. But eventually he comes out with "Basil," and sighs. "I have to stop kidding myself that I'm over him. I'm not. I'm... sorry if this sounds like, emo... but I love him and I can't stop thinking about him..."

"Mmmf," Kaz says. "I, yeah." She puts her stick down entirely (it starts merrily burning in the fire), and sighs. "I guess what it comes down to is, if you want to remain Pure As The Driven Snow and all that, packin' with him's stupid. 'Course, that's a big if."

"Well, yeah, that's it," Kevin blurts, going from silent to verbose as though a switch has been flicked. "He's my alpha so I'm meant to admire him, and his attitude and his scars and the way he just looks at you... " His fists clench up. "I know I shouldn't pack with him, Kaz, but who else'd take me now? I'm damaged goods."

Kaz quirks a grin. "I don't think he's hot stuff. But I don' swing that way." She sighs. "Honestly, Kev, I think a lotta packs'd take you. I think you got all kinds of clues, an' you're smart. People ain't gonna reject you, although you ain't gonna be no Beta nowhere other'n here, at least not right now. So I don' think that's actually as big a thing as you think it is. On th' other hand, I kinda like packin' with you."

Kevin gives a dry laugh. "Beta? I'm Omega. Through and through, baby, through and through. And I like packing with you," he confides, "else I wouldn't be talking to you now. It's not, I suppose," he goes on, "that I'm worried I'm going to fall back into bad ways... I trust Basil not to even if I don't trust myself. But I've got this tire fire fight coming up soon, and... well." He shrugs helplessly. "I guess I'm kind of... scared."

"Yeah, well. Me too." Kaz sighs. "Anytime I got too much time before a fight, I get to thinkin' too much, and scarin' myself." The Gnawer finds another stick, and pokes her old stick. It falls apart. "I tend to think you and Baz's old ways wasn't that bad, p'ticularly if you can get y'self to hang out with Aimee, too. But I'm obviously in the minority around here, an' anyway you gotta be all about appearances for awhile."

"Aimee and Basil," Kevin says with a jaundiced air, "have apparently been comparing notes about me. I'm not sure whether to be flattered or terrified. Or what to expect when I go back to town and see her again... Listen," he says, still in the low urgent voice. "It's not that I don't like Aimee. I do. A lot. I guess I must be... must be bisexual," he says, spitting the word out like an unpalatable bit of gristle found among the steak tips, "as opposed to gay. But that just makes it all more complicated. I keep wishing the whole sex thing would just go away," he concludes, "and leave me the hell alone."

Kaz stops poking the fire and really looks at him. "I guess you'd take it wrong if I thought two people who love you a lot conspirin' together was a good thing?" She sighs. "I guess I'm too far removed from th' confusin' self hatin' days to be much help, 'cause personally, I ain't found nothin' wrong with bein' bi. It's kinda interestin'. I jus' don' connect up so good to guys, emotionally. But you clearly do. Which is... really cool to watch, actually."

Kevin seems a little taken aback. He looks at Kaz, realises he's staring, looks away, then forces himself to look back. "I hadn't thought of any of it that way," he mutters. "You reckon it is because they both like me? Not because they're just trying to dig the dirt?"

Kaz can't help but smile just slightly at Kevin's double take, but she nods. "I really can't see Baz, at least, as tryin' to dig dirt on you. I ain't met Aimee, so I can't say, but it just don't seem to be in Baz's character. I mean, he's just as much of an asshole sometimes as anyone else is, but he cares."

"Yeah," Kevin says in a choked way. "He cares. If nothing else, Kaz... that I know. And that's the problem. Couple of weeks, we're doing the tire fire thing. Odds aren't good. Maybe both of us'll buy the farm, more likely at least one of us will. That's what's preying all over my mind. He's the ahroun. He's gonna be in there biting and clawing, right at the heart of it while I'm just running interference... maybe dying while I'm not able to help. And that's why I'm scared. I've never been scared of a fight before, Kaz," he pleads, "and it's freaking me out."

Kaz lets out a sigh, and closes her eyes just briefly. "Yeah," she says, a little tightly. "That one's never easy. You just gotta have faith that basically, packs are there to help each other out, so you really will have each other's backs. That... actually did help, th' last time I had people die on me."

Kevin closes his eyes for several seconds. His jaw works back and forth a few times as though he were chewing gum, though it's more likely his own emotional issues he's chewing on. Then he looks at Kaz again. "Be there for me, Kazza? I'll be there for you. I'm... pretty fighty for a ragabash," he says, in the air that someone might say who claims he's pretty tall for a dwarf.

Kaz watches him while he struggles, a fierce, sad little smile on her face. "Yeah," she says, that same tight, hoarse tone to her voice. "I'll be there for you. Def'nitely."

Kevin seems more than a little set at ease by her promise. "And did you know there's other garou want into Vendetta?" he says, as though surprised at this. "Morgan... and Reggie. What d'you think of them? I know you and Morgan get on, both being..." He doesn't say the fateful word which they both are, though it's probably not 'female'.

"I talked t'Morgan. She's a wacky kinda kid, but she tries hard, so I don' got no objections. As f'Reggie..." She trails off. "I'll have t'give him a sniff." She seems to mean this literally. "Ain't never had any actual problems with him, though, and he's a good guy in gen'ral."

Kevin seems glad to have an excuse to move onto a less fraught subject. "Reggie's kind of weird... I always get the impression there's more going on in his head than he ever shows... but maybe that's just Uktena for you," he shrugs. "Can't think of an ahroun less like Basil, mind. But maybe that's a good thing. Variety, yeah? I hope they let the whole pack fight together," he goes on, returning to the previous topic like a man with a sore tooth his tongue can't let alone.

"He's always seemed to be not to be able to connect to people so good." Kaz shrugs. "But like I say, I'll sniff him, and then see what's up. Variety's definitely of use." At his return, she pokes at one of the logs. "Yah. I don' know a lot of major operations where they /don't/ deal with th' whole pack."

"We need to fix up getting Morgan to meet Patches," Kevin declares. "Nice and soon so they're in tune by the time the fight comes. And Reggie too, if Basil doesn't pitch a fit at not being the only ahroun in the club."

"Yeah. I been wantin' t'do that since, uh, more'n a week ago." Kaz grabs a hunk of cold steak tip, now that the conversation is apparently less emotionally fraught, and encases it in a piece of bread. "I think Patches'll like Morgan, honest."

"I like her, mostly," Kevin says a little cautiously. "She kind of freaks me, but I guess if I pack with her I'll get more used to her. Like I have you," he says with a wave of his hand to Kaz. "Though you don't look... like her."

Basil walks into the area in his same shorts and t-shirt borrowed from the cub bin and a rifle on his shoulder, instantly smiling big when he stumbles across his packmates. "What's all this then? Having a bit of a party on the Bawn while I've been off talking to Emma? What're you talking about?"

Kaz says, "I still think she's mostly freaky 'cause of th' abusive upbringin', not 'cause of how she looks. Although that helps, I guess. Oh, hey, Baz. Morgan, just at th' moment. Other stuff, earlier."

Kevin's face sets into stony immobility as Basil approaches. "And Reggie," he adds to Kaz's statement. "Forgot to tell you yesterday, he approached me about joining Vendetta. What d'you think of that?"

"Oh, yeah. Fianna raise their Metis like soccer balls." Basil says, glancing between Kaz and Kevin. "I think I'll have to ask him. Isn't he kinda crippled for an Ahroun? It's not like he'll knock me off." Basil scratches behind his head. "You want him in? Or don't? Oh. Kevin, I've sent Tu a message about some experiments. I need you to help him, my Rage is too high to do it. You're going to be burning tires and seeing what puts them out the best."

"Well, in this case, Fianna raise their metis in basements and don't interact with them, but same thing." Kaz blinks. "Cri-- Oh, I suppose kinda. Everyone's got scars of one sort or another, though. His is just kinda more there."

Kevin raises an eyebrow. "I thought he was just a porky bastard," he says. "What scars has he got, then? I hear he's been cliath for years and years, so I guess he must have picked up a few dings?"

"I dunno, I'm just going by some stuff I've heard and all. Anyways, he honks a mean horn." Basil looks at Kaz. "You happen to know anyone that can drive a truck?" Basil looks at Kevin. "And you, you still got roach connections and stuff?"

"Well," Kaz says, with a slight grin, "I can. If you mean a van type've thing. If you mean an 18 wheeler, I know a few folks..."

Kevin laughs at the mention of Reggie's horn-blowing. "Oh man, that was such a great fight," he says fondly. "Wish I could believe the tire fire's gonna be as much fun... and have as few casualties. But yeah, I'll set fire to tires back home if it helps. I'm still a roachwolf, not going to change that. But you know I can't drive. Yet."

"I mean eighteen wheelers. Maybe a Ryder van. Heres the plan." Basil states, almost looking proud as he folds his arms over his chest. "I and Justin thought about it. We're going to test, or Kevin's going to test, and see what does well against fires. Tire fires. Go on the net and do a bit of research. Whatever they use for forest fires, liquid nitrogen, things like that and get it quick. If we find something works well, we swipe a truck or two or three of it, hit the fire with it, hit it with talens, and maybe rain if possible. And if that don't work, we create some sorta barrier between the tires we put out and the burning ones. But. First, we have to see how likely it is to work."

Kaz blinks. "Well, I can drive Ryders. And I did kinda once drive an 18 wheeler. It was fun! So, uh, yeah. Also I bet Reggie can, speaking of him. An'-- Sounds like a gen'rally good idea t'me."

"He can," Kevin agrees. "I'm sure I heard someone say he drives a truck. Maybe that's why he's so hard to get to know," he muses. "Back in England, truck drivers have this reputation of being loners. We had a couple of them who killed a bunch of kids." He shrugs. "Are they like that over here?"

Kaz shakes her head. "Nah, over here, they're just kinda assholes, most've the time."

Basil shrugs. "Ask Reggie if he likes killing kids if you see'm. I never paid much attention to truckers. People seem to dig the idea, or at least Justin did. Emma seemed to think it might work. The thing on the cake is, after we leave, we leave Green Peace shit around, like spray it on the trucks and stuff."

Kevin perks up. "Hey! That was my idea!" he proclaims proudly. "Diversionary tactics." He looks almost smug for a few seconds. "So, yeah, we say Reggie's cool by us if he's cool by Patch?"

Kaz says, "Works f'me, Kev."

"Yeah, yeah. I just want to talk to him first. Lets see... Me, you, Kaz, Bug, and Reggie. Pretty full pack that is." Basil grins. "We'll be getting along just fine, I think."

Kaz mutters, "Back in a sec," and wanders off to somewhere where she can't be reached by telephone.

"Still no theurge or philodoxes," Kevin ponders as he waves to Kaz and annexes the few remaining steak tips, "but you can't pick and choose always, can you?"

"Ah, you think a Philodox wants to pack with two Charachs? Or you think I want to pack with one?" Basil speaks, waving to Kaz as she wanders off. "Not the most popular with that auspice."

"I bet Grey wouldn't mind," Kevin points out, loyal to his tribemate. "Only Havoc already got ahold of him. Maybe Ken would, even. He's never been a great one for worrying about what people think of him, not when I was with him in Requiem anyway." He sighs. "You spoken to Aimee again since last time?"

"Ken's too pissy and angry and I don't want him in my pack. He's also all traditional and Shadow Lordy." Basil lifts his hands, then drops them. "No. I think I'm going to avoid her for a bit, and drinking with her." Basil grins at Kevin. "Otherwise I might get flashed again, and I'll never stop talking about your girl friend's tits."

Kevin's jaw drops, quite literally. "Flashed? She... flashed you?" The British garou couldn't look more astonished if the moon had dropped out of the sky and coshed him on the head.

"Don't be so silly. It's not like I pulled down her pants and fucked her on the couch. I told her it wasn't nice to tease the dog or something, I think." Basil grins, shaking his head. "You're lucky to have such a fun girl. If you're going to go see her, see her before you burn those tires. You'll smell like crap after."

Kevin makes a few more incoherent splutters. "Basil... I... have to go," he gasps and almost jumps to his feet, so vigorously that he comes close to overbalancing into the fire. "I'll be in touch," he promises hastily, "once we're back in town, yeah?"

Basil shakes his head at Kevin. "People do it all the time in New Orleans, you know! It's not the end of the world! How the fuck am I more comfortable with this shit than you." He wonders a loud, waving to Kevin as he runs off. "Yeah. Go see your damn girl friend!"

Kevin makes it halfway across the clearing before Basil's last words, which make him halt and spin round. "Yeah," he shouts back pugnaciously. "I'm gonna. I'm gonna do just that. See my girlfriend," he says with heavy emphasis on the possessive. Then he turns again and goes stomping off.