Time/Date : It is currently 07:15 Pacific Time on Wed Dec 19 2007.
Place : Around the Lone Boulder
Weather :Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the south at 17 mph, with gusts up to 25 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.59 and falling, and the relative humidity is 82 percent. The dewpoint is 38 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)
Moon Phase : Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (66% full).
Around the Lone Boulder
The sparse forest gives way here into a vast clearing, entirely devoid of trees or heavy underbrush for great distances all around. Low, thick grass, a palish green in color, grows everywhere underfoot; it sways ever so gently in the chill winds that seem to settle in across this open expanse with unusual frequency. The occasional darker shoot or dandelion weed makes its way up amidst the rest, but the hilly territory is on the whole a uniform color, reminiscent of a moor. Adding to the image is the single, ponderous old stone, a grey-brown in color, settled uncannily in the dead center of the expanse as if it has perched there alone since the dawn of time. Grass grows up around the weathered boulder, but its vaguely-flattened top clears the grass by a good many feet, at least chest-high to a good-sized man. The sky, often grey, is a presence in this sudden openness, appearing from amidst the treetops to arc high over the grass and stone. Woodland tracks lead off into the forest to the north and south, while the boulder itself stands at the center of the clearing.
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.
This wolf is healthy, her stocky frame and large barrel chest covered by a bright reddish-brown coat of coarse fur. This wolf is in her prime, tail flagged out behind her in boisterous confidence.
Escapes, ranging far from the Fury House, bounds along happily, largely oblivious to her surroundings, tail raised and waving in sheer joie de vivre. She's not *so* oblivious, however, as to fail to notice someone waving a sword near the only outstanding feature in an entire field. Ears pricked in curiosity, she approaches, not really trying to be stealthy - which is good, as a black wolf on a green background is not exactly camoflage.
~Racking tenants stewards teasing, Swiftly spending, slowly raising, Wishing to spend all their days, in Raking as at Mallow.~ Steel-Claws continues to sing, massive sword swinging through the air in rather terrifying strokes. But, for each stroke of the blade, twice the time must be taken to bring the weapon to bare once again. The thing is huge, which makes it a bit unwieldily.
The Fury Ahroun draws herself to a halt, a safe but noticeable distance from the whirling swordswoman, sits down, folds her tail over her paws. She remains quiet, not wanting to cause a horrendous blade-related accident, but her breath steams the cool morning air and her eyes follow the blade with interest.
And there is one more traversing the bawn of Hidden Walk this morning. Large, bat-like ears pivot as he hears the song ring out, and his stunted gait slows to a more easily handled trot. He puts himself in that direction, nose sniffing as he tries to gauge who the song belongs to.
~Then to end this raking life, They get sober, take a wife, Ever after live in strife, And wish again for Mallow.~ Steel-Claws belts out the last of the song, as she comes to a stop. Breathing heavily and chest heaving, she walks over to the bolder and picks up a sheath for the overly large weapon. ~Yes? And who might you be?~ She asks the watching wolf.
The seated Ahroun whuffs and flicks her ears in amusement. Escapes, the Fury says. One who barks at you through openings. She moves closer, tail held high again. Sharp.
Speaks-Up continues to close the distance himself, not yet close enough to be seen, or see who he searches for, but enough that the right turn of wind will bring his scent to the others.
Steel-Claws's hackles lift, as she bares her teeth, leveling her rather impressive blade in the wolf's direction. ~You would declare yourself above me, the Elder of the Fianna?~ She snarls out softly.
Escapes' tail falls rather, to be held dead level. That was not my intent, she comments, slightly ruefully. It has yet to be decided. She parts her lips a fraction, showing a glimpse of tooth.
~Then you shouldn't have held yourself as one above me,~ Steel-Claws says, as she lifts the hilt of the blade above her head, so she can get the tip and then the remainder of the sword in to it's sheath. ~Do you want something?~
It's about this point that the other Fury has made his way close enough to see the others. A faint chuff goes up, alerting them that he's there - but he doesn't seem intent to move any closer just now. His eyes focus first on the Fianna, then his tribemate, tension coiling slightly.
Escapes almost seems to sigh, as if some tension runs out of her, and then her form slowly swells through Hispo and into Crinos. ~You have a poor attitude and worse manners~ she growls. ~And you think too highly of yourself for one so new~ She takes a couple of steps, a circling motion, eyes fixed on Steel-Claws, moving slowly in the general direction of the lone boulder.
It seems as if the gathering has attracted another member of the Sept. Dragon's-Fire breaks through the thinning forest in Hispo. He only slows his pace slightly when he sees the group, sniffing at the air. A huff of breath announces his presence.
Steel-Claws snorts darkly. ~I no not consider myself an Omega and I am hardly new to being Garou. I am sorry that I do not show submission before your greatness,~ she adds sarcastically. Leaning against the bolder, there are a selection of Crinos sized weapons. Two swords, three axes, a shield, and some sort of pike.
Speaks-Up takes another few steps forward, falling in place a little behind the other Fury. He licks his muzzle with a flicker of nerves as he watches. A single pivot of one bat-shaped ear turns back at the others approach, but for now all attention is on the Fianna. As a note, his posture is anything but challenging or dominant.
~It is not that you don't show submission~ Escapes growls, closing on the boulder. ~It is that you don't show respect. To anyone.~ There's a trembling in her muscles that indicates a temper being held, and a readiness. Still, she does seem intent on reaching the boulder, though she's not approaching the weapon-rack side.
Dragon's-Fire says, ~I would have to agree her, unfortunately.~ This comes from the Fostern as he draws close to the group. ~It looks like there's going to be war this morning.~ Dragon's-Fire gestures towards the weapons lined up against the boulder.~
~And how would have you had me show respect?~ Steel-Claws asks, making her way over to the boulder as well. Although she is headed for the weaponry. ~You chose the terms Dragon's-Fire,~ she says to the Fostern, although she pretty much ignores Zeke. ~Have you healed well?~
Escapes hisses in annoyance, and swings an clawed paw at the rock, sending sparks flying. The boulder seems largely undamaged, except for a couple of scratches. As if setting up for a strange game of tic-tac-toe, Escapes strikes the boulder again, with the other paw.
Speaks-Up continues to watch, eyes following his tribemate as she moves up to the rock and begins striking it with her claws. A few more steps are taken then, eyes intent upon all the building tension and interaction.
Dragon's-Fire acknowledges as much with a chuff. ~I have. You are looking as if you did, too. I did choose the terms, and I will admit my hoping for you to see the error or your challenge was optimistic.~ The Fostern's posture shifts, now simply screaming 'dominant' as he draws himself up. ~Though perhaps what I say will have to wait, with our sister the Fury looking so eager.~
Steel-Claws looks over at Escapes, then shrugs. ~I have no squabble with her. If she wants to Challenge me, she is welcome too.~ That said, Steel-Claws puts down the greatsword and selects a pair of axes.
This gets a growl from the Fury Ahroun, who strikes the boulder a couple more times, and then steps towards Steel-Claws, moving back around the rock. Her claws glint wickedly, as if catching the rays of the cloud-covered sun. ~I will not challenge you~ she says ~because you are not above me. That is yet to be decided. We should decide it here~
Speaks-Up keeps his eyes leveled on the action, coat twitching with building anticipation. He initiates nothing, just watches, gauges and calculates behind those amber eyes.
Steel-Claws twirls the axes around in her hands and shrugs. ~We are Cliath and equal, until it is decided otherwise,~ she says.
Dragon's-Fire simply waits, watching the pair with what appears to be mounting tension.
~Fine~ Escapes says, nonchalently. She half-turns away. ~Coward~ There's a tautness in her muscles that suggests that she's very aware of the possible effects of that word.
Speaks-Up licks that nose of his again and then steps up to move with his tribemate. There's nothing conveyed to her, but there is an absolute sense of uncertainty as he approaches.
Steel-Claws snorts loudly, ears pressing forward. ~No, I am no coward,~ she snarls. ~I just happen to know the meaning of Honor and unlike what some seem to think, I have some Wisdom as well, Fury. We are Cliath. We are equals and I will treat you as my equal. If I feel that I am above you, I will Challenge you and you will set the terms. If you feel that you are above me, you must be the one who Challenges and I will set the terms. I will tell you this right now, I set no terms where claws and teeth will be used. A Challenge where a Garou may die, unlike some. I see the value in /not/ letting Garou slaughter eachother over small things. Go be angry if you wish, Escapes-Yuf.~
Escapes glares at Steel-Claws for a long long moment, and then looks away. Sideways, not down or up. She hisses unhappily. ~You just stick swords in people, Steel-Claws-yuf~ she says, ungraciously, but she's backing away, letting the challenge go. ~Nice axes~ she says, without sarcasm.
Dragon's-Fire's hackles rise. ~You speak of honor as if you are close friends with it!~ The Fostern lets out a bark. ~And yet, you stick blades of Luna's metal into two of the First Tribe!~ The Galliard steps forward.
Steel-Claws smiles, lips pulling back from her teeth. ~The Fang named his terms, when I Challenged him,~ she responds. ~Back home, everyone had a weapon.~ She says, easily. ~And you heal from them in seconds. Why would I not use them, or my fists? Instead of fucking claws and teeth.~ She then turns to Cole, ears laying back. ~Go yell at the Master of the Challenge then, who deemed the battle a fair Challenge.~
Speaks-Up casts a look over his shoulder at the Fianna woman, and at Dragon-Fire's sudden temper, he halts himself. To have wisdom is to be calm, and temperate and merciful. It may be that the whole of the Sept should remove the log from their eyes, before trying to remove the splinter from the eyes of others.
Out of the firing line for now, Escapes shrinks back down to Lupus, trotting away from the rock towards Speaks-Up, tail held very carefully parallel to the ground. There's still a glint of wildness in her eye, but her gait is easy enough.
~I will not yell at the Master of the Challenge, Steel-Claws. I have heard otherwise! The battle against the Fang Elder may have been fair, but to stab the lesser Fang in fury?! With a blade of silver?! But I have heard your excuses, oh yes.~ Dragon's-Fire rises into Crinos, pointing a talon in his tribemate's direction. ~I have heard that you were ridden by the Wyrm! Only, I did not hear such a thing from you! On the eve of our battle, you chose not to mention that fact! And I will remind you now, if you do not address me with the proper respect for my rank, I will tear your fucking head off!~
Steel-Claws's ears flicks back. ~She attacked me,~ she replies simply. ~I reacted as any warrior would. Even if my control was not as it should have been, because I was tainted in Battle against the Wyrm. I was cleansed. I was no more tainted on the day of our battle then you were, Garou-Who-Holds-The-Rank-Of-Fostern. Did you hear that I sought the Silver Fangs out and offered apology and that that accepted it. I am your Elder and I have done nothing to disrespect your Rank since you came here.~
Speaks-Up stops when word of taint and challenges comes up, turning to watch and listen to the interaction. There's a little raise of his own hackles, as if something sat poorly with him in regards to it all, but he is, again, silent.
Escapes pads closer to Speaks, sitting down next to him. Philodox, she wuffs. Challenge here. She watches cautiously, actually slightly behind Speaks, as if guarding his flank.
Dragon's-Fire bares his teeth at his tribemate. The answer given only seems to inflame him all the more. ~I have heard you were Cleansed at that point, yes. But the fact that you, a Galliard, did not relay that news...it sickens me! Do you not think it was relevant that you had been tainted by the Wyrm? Did you not think that I, as your Elder, might need to know about it? Bah, you know nothing of honor! And your version of respect is the kind I would expect of a cub! You shame our auspice for hiding information that should have been shared! You shame our tribe with your lack of wisdom! Steel-Claws, Galliard of Stag's children, I bring challenge against you for Eldership of this tribe. You are no fit Elder for this place.~
Steel-Claws rolls her eyes at Cole. ~Then prove to me that you are a true Elder and a Galliard. Remove the fog from the eyes of the Silver Fang Elder. Convince him that the weapon he calls a Klaive is a forgery, created by my own hand.~
Steel-Claws bares her teeth in a smile. ~If you do not agree to these terms, we can speak with the Master of the Challenge about them.~
Speaks-Up looks confused now, and with a flicker of his tail, the deformed metis shifts to Crinos. ~You yourself forged the weapon that the Fang elder wields?~ That's all he mentions right now, and he glances back to the Fostern to see if the other is accepting of such terms.
Escapes watches tensely, the only motion being the ruffling of her fur by the winter wind. She says nothing, and her posture is almost totally neutral.
Dragon's-Fire gives a rictus grin, something in his grey eyes showing excitement at the challenge. ~Perhaps you should have been a Ragabash, Steel-Claws. Manipulating me to your own ends, a cause only you of the Sept really give a flying fuck about? Very well, I accept your terms. I shall show him the truth. You will tell me all I need to know of the blade that was broken, and that which was forged, and where the defeated blade is now.~
Steel-Claws inclines her head towards Speaks-Up. ~I did. It is not pure silver, merely plated. It has Glyphs on the base, for forgery and mockery. I had intended it as a show piece, to prove to the Fang that such a weapon could be faked. I broke his blade. The last I saw of it, the Fang cub possessed it.~ The Fostern is given a mildly bemused look. ~We are the Fianna. We are the History keepers of the Garou. We speak of our History, the Glory of our past. We keep our History. The tales of our warriors, the tales of our weapons, the tales of our great Fetishes. I object to any who claims a piece of /false/ History, as would any from my home Sept. You make demands, even though I am the one to set the terms. I find this amusing. I give you a task where I have failed. I have failed to make people give a flying fuck about the /truth/. If you are the greater leader and the greater Galliard, you will succeed, where I have failed.~
Escapes turns away, now there's not going to be a fight, and slowly makes her way back towards the woods, her earlier happy bounce replaced by a sullen plod.
Dragon's-Fire inclines his head slowly. ~You were fully in your right to decline my demands. You did not. Complain to yourself of it, or to no one at all. And while we're talking about what we really think of each other...~ The Fianna draws in a breath. ~I think you are a miserable excuse for a Fianna Elder. Your treatment of the kin to our tribe shames me that I stand by and allow it. You are a zealot, allowing your anger and might to intoxicate you. You are new here, and yet try to force a Sept that is not like your home Sept to conform to your vision. This is Saint Claire, not your home. If you pine for it so much, go there. None will miss you.~ The Crinos drops down into Lupus with a chuff. This one will speak with the Elder of the Fangs. The Galliard looks once towards the Furies and inclines his lupine head in a respectful gesture.
Steel-Claws tilts her head to one side. ~I do not treat kin poorly,~ she says, as the Fostern leaves. ~I am giving him the child he wants so very badly. Good day,~ she says and starts collecting up her things.
Escapes disappears into the woods, her low frame becoming obscured by trees and bushes and other such stuff.
A huff of breath from Dragon's-Fire. And yet he is not with the mate he chose first because of your actions. This one will find you with news of the Silver Fang. And with that, Dragon's-Fire leaves the site as well.