Time/Date :It is currently 10:07 Pacific Time on Sat Apr 28 2007.

Place : Caern : Waterfall

Weather :Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 52 degrees Fahrenheit (11 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northeast at 9 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.23 and steady, and the relative humidity is 61 percent. The dewpoint is 39 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)

Moon Phase :Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (75% full).

By the Waterfall

The walls of the canyon surrounding the caern reach upwards to thirty feet here, their highest point. About two-thirds of the way up, a small underground spring exits the rock face. The water spills playfully down the cliff face, caressing the rocks and darting away, but always falling to gravity's inexorable pull. The flow, upon entering the shallow, chilled pool of water at the bottom, creates constant ripples in the puddle's surface. A light mist rises up from the ground near the pool, chilling to the bone.
The forest surrounding the caern's border is far less dense than the rest of the nearby forest, with ferns and clumps of aspen taking the place of white pine and birch. Scattered, centuries-old cedar stand majestically over their fallen, decaying, moss-covered comrades. This peculiarity seems to surround only the area just outside the caern.
To the west, cool mist kicked up by the falls mingles with warmer steam from geothermal sources; these mists swirl around the caern to the north. The caern's center lies northwest of here. You can pick out what seems to be a hazardous trail over rock and up the wall, to the side of the waterfall.


A medium-sized she-wolf with glossy fur and a purity of line that indicates recently-achieved adulthood. She has a midnight black pelt streaked lightly with silver in the belly area. A few scars disturb the lie of the fur across her back, one of which seems to have healed poorly, leaving a bare patch of skin showing pale against the surrounding dark. There is an air of dissatisfaction and irritability about her, her yellow eyes are filled with rage as they stare out at the world.
In this form, Escapes-From-Money's athleticism is more obvious, and she moves with a combination of speed and compact power. There is a hint of classic Black Fury in her form and shape, though it has been heavily diluted by other stock.


The Eurasian Tundra wolf is one of the largest subspecies of wolves in the world, and Blackriver could be the type specimen on her kind. Easily topping 120 pounds, this is a wolf in her prime, healthy, strong and alert. Slender yet sturdy legs support a barrel chest and large snowshoe paws. Her frame is covered with thick bushy fur, each individual hair of dark grey, pure white, and every shade in between mingle together to form a silver, almost lavender, color running from her snout to her tail tip. On her belly the wolf's fur is white and looks oh so very soft. Blackriver's eyes are a milky amber, almost like honey. She carries herself well, and no Garou would doubt what tribe she claims lineage from. A large patch of her right shoulder is furless, the charred and boiled flesh bare for all to see.

Blackriver comes padding down from the rocky path down towards the caern proper. She pauses at the waterfall, taking a drink from the cool waters. Settling back onto her haunches, her tail wraps around her forepaws as she turns to look out over the caern, ears pricked forward in alertness.

Coming from the west, stalking with her body held low to the ground, comes Escapes-From-Money. Her tail is held level with the earth, and her ears are raised in alertness. A fair distance from the waterfall, she pauses, lifting her nose and turning her head, searching for the unfamiliar scent she has caught on the air. She growls something that is halfway between a hostile challenge and a greeting.

Blackriver's head snaps around as she hears the sound, ears pressing forward. She gives a loud neutral greeting in return, pulling herself to her feet. Her tail uncurls to hang out behind her, and she hesitates a moment before padding over towards the Ahroun.

Escapes relaxes her pose, as a familiar figure appears. Her thought processes are transparent, almost visibly played out - relaxation at the sight of a fellow Sept-member, then a stiffening into a position of pure anger - her fur stands on end, she pulls herself up to a full height, bares her teeth into a snarl of hostility. It seems she is not pleased to see the Philodox.

Blackriver freezes a few feet away from Escapes, ears twitching in confusion. She raises a paw, and then puts it down, tipping her head to one side as she stares at the Fury.

The snarl turns into a growl of anger, and the Ahroun's muscles quiver, as if she's restraining herself from leaping and attacking the Philodox. She takes a couple of steps backwards, slowly, painfully, an internal fight being fought out within the Black Fury.

Blackriver continues to look confused, and edges back a few inches. Her muscles coil as she prepares to spring aside if needed, and she lets out a soft whine.

Escapes lifts her nose disdainfully, and the air of imminent threat recedes, her ruffled fur settling back down into its normal pattern. She turns, tail held proudly high, and starts to stalk slowly away from the waterfall and the Philodox.

Blackriver's hackles raise as she takes on the anger the Ahroun showed just a moment ago. She lets out a loud snarl, tail raising to curl above her head and fur bristling, muscles tensing as she restrains herself.

The Ahroun spins back to face the Philodox, all of a sudden back in full fury mode, hackles raised, teeth bared. Her eyes mist with anger, and she lets out a loud growl of full-on challenge. She starts to close the distance between them, her footsteps bold and threatening.

Blackriver's lips curl back as she snarls back at the Ahroun, posture raised and screaming dominant. She tries to make herself look bigger than the Ahroun, her pure breeding shinning through to make her a bit more successful with that.

Escapes halts her advance, locking her gaze with the other Garou, her fur fluffing even more. Her growl rumbles on and on, a long, low, snarl. She stiffens, on the edge of leaping into an attack on the Philodox. She then holds the position and the pose, forming a tableaux filled with tension.

Blackriver leans forward, glaring into Escape's eyes, tail curling above her. Submit, submit, submit her posture screams, the Fang looking almost savagely nobel in the mid-morning light.

Escapes snarls back, almost slavering with rage, her body held proud and stiff, threat quivering from every pore. Time passes, with the two Garou locked in silent struggle. Eventually, though, it is the Ahroun who breaks, lifting her muzzle to show throat, a whine of sheer miserableness replacing the growl of anger. Her posture drops, and she slumps lower to the ground, defeat washing away threat in seconds.

Blackriver's demeanor changes as soon as the other looks away, anger flowing out of her as she relaxes with a deep breath. Her tail stays high, waving gently above her head, and her tongue hangs out to pant from the effort. She might have won, but it looks like it took quite a bit of effort, and the Fang's tired.

The Fury Ahroun closes her eyes, and lets her head drop to the floor, lying on the ground as if all the life has been sucked out of her. She continues to whine her misery in little bursts, almost like sobs.

Blackriver blinks down at the Fury, posture settling into that confused expression that's so common on her. She sniffs lightly at Escapes, withdrawing her nose quickly and tilting her head to the side.

Escapes doesn't respond at first, and then lifts her head and gives a little growl. Go away. As if even this is too much effort, her head sinks back, and she withdraws again, a little pile of unhappiness on the floor of the caern.

Blackriver hangs around a moment longer, pacing a half-circle around the Ahroun, before turning and walking around the seasons until she gets to fall, exiting the caern from the rocky outcropping.

After some time, Escapes picks herself up and slinks away, her head held low, heading due west back towards the Fury house, leaving the scene of her defeat behind her.

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