December: Cracking the Bone

[kai]

[Threads for the December 2013 moot will open on December 8th and close on December 17th. In character, the moot occurs on the night of December 17th, the full moon.

David, you're up!]

[Kenna]

The last moot that had passed, the bone had been cracked by the Great Alpha himself. Before that, a Silver Fang who has earned a name within the Nation, with Breeding and Stance and Charm and Regality-- the kind of person that you look to when she enters a room and hear clearly when she speaks.

This month there was a return to normalcy-- or at least, as close to it as any Garou would get. The challenge for who would crack the bone was open for any who would step up. It is no familiar face that rose the victor from the challenge, but one that no wolf present had seen before.

Some of the young still have trouble telling Crinos and Lupus apart, but plenty here are seasoned enough to know that the scent of the Garou that stepped forward when the howl had closed and all had settled was a stranger to the Sept.

Why is he leading us?
Who is he to judge us?
What does he know of the story of Forgotten Questions and its people, of what we've gone through and the issues at hand?

Whispers would pass as he rose from where he'd been crouched up until that point, and though they'd have to quiet, young wolves hushed by the elders that know when silence is due, they would no doubt surge up later during the revelry and aftermath that followed. For now, though, quiet settles and David "Final Word" Lundgren stepped forward.

He was a mountain of a Crinos, stretching up to a full ten feet tall, possibly an inch or so beyond that. He was bulky as he was tall, muscle dense and layered along with a healthy amount of insulating fat, which made his figure all the more impressive. His pelt was white from chin to chest to belly to arms and legs, gray from head to shoulders to back to tail tip. He looked every bit the Tribe that he hailed from-- not many had to have it spelled out for him that this man descended from the Get of Fenris (though they couldn't smell it on him, though they couldn't hear it in the wind around him or sense that gripping authority that they could in the more well-bred; he looked the part, but it was just that alone).

The beast walked with a heavy, almost lumbering gait to the front and center of those gathered, and curled in massive hands ended in wicked white-clear-cream-colored claws was the traditional femur, ripped free from a deer the other day. He thumped it in his palm and swung his weight about to face those that were gathered.

Light colored eyes scanned the crowd, and the quiet drew on-- on and on, past the dozen second mark, past the twenty second mark as well. It stopped being impressive, and people started to shift and look uncertain. Final Word ran his tongue over his maw and nose and looked down at the bone in his hands, for a glimpse of a moment coming across as uncertain -- Did they make the right choice? Is he going to fuck this up? Is that stage fright we're seeing? -- before lifting the bone to his face and crunching it between strong jaws like it was a chicken bone instead. Marrow leaked, tinged that snow-white fur around his mouth pink, and with his breath pluming like a cloud in the night and the rank of blood on his breath, he spoke in a voice just as deep as you'd expect coming from that big body to address those gathered.

"You know how this works. If you have grievances or scores to settle, if you have complaints or announcements or plans, this is when and where to share them. Respect Those of Higher Station-- the Eldest will speak first, then on down the line through the ranks."

His gaze swept the crowd, and though his words were certain there was still that lingering barely-there air of inexperience to how stiff his posture was and how wide his eyes were when he looked past faces and over heads and ears instead. Yet, there was no tremble in his voice when he clarified: "If you speak out of turn, you'll be put back down in your place. You're welcome to find out what that entails if you choose, but I don't recommend it."

Black lips curl up over his teeth like he took some kind of nervous joy away from that announcement.

"Now. We'll start."

Final Word maintains his Crinos form through the proceedings, and is as physically imposing a figure as any while holding the cracked bone balanced on his palm. He didn't know who was what rank, so any who opted to speak in their turn would need to indicate it to him, hail him in some way. When catching a gesture, he will approach and stand blocky and heavy while they speak.

[Damon]

Erich is one of the first Cliaths to request the Bone. He does so rather like a schoolboy, raising his hand and standing up in his two-legged form.

"So uh," he begins with a nervous eye cast toward the Elders, "I know Cold Crescent is no longer officially a Sept. But some of us, me included, think it's really important to hold that last line against whatever's in the basement. Especially since the Beloved Horror is still out there, and they <i>really</i> want to use what's in the basement to break all hell loose.

"I've already texted some of you, and some of you have come out to help out. I appreciate it. This is me saying: we could use more of you. I mean, I know not all of you will agree with me. And that's cool. But for those of us who do want to keep an eye on the place, we could really use you. And ... since we're all gathered here, I also thought we could maybe talk about how to kinda get some organization going again. I wrote some stuff down that we should think about -- "

Here, he interrupts himself for a good twenty seconds or so of fumbling through his pockets, trying not to drop the Bone, and squinting through the darkness to read his own sloppy handwriting. When he finally gets it figured out, Erich clears his throat and picks up where he left off.

"Number one: we should work out like a patrol schedule. 'Cause sometimes there's like five of us there and other times there are zero. There should always be at least two of us there, I think. We don't have to sit and talk about who's gonna take what day, but like... we can just work a schedule out. We should also like... trade digits so we can get each other to come down fast if shit hits the fan."

More squinting. Then, "Number two: we should try to get some of the defenses going again. I know the Theurges have been doing stuff, but I'm not sure what. So maybe we can talk about what's being done and what should be done. It'd be nice if spirits could help us keep an eye umbra-side. It'd be even better if they could actually fight for us a bit, at least until we get there in force.

"Number three: sorta along the same lines, it'd be nice to get some realm-side surveillance going. I talked to Milton about this some," a nod toward the Glass Walker, "and he said he might be able to rig up the security cams again. And stuff. So... it'd be cool if we could discuss that.

"Number four: what's the deal with like... real-world leases and shit on that building? I asked Eva about it so maybe she knows something. But yeah, we need to hold on to that building. It'd suck if one day some Fortune 500 company just like. MOVED IN.

"And uh. Last thing I had written down was this: we should maybe ... try to figure the pit in the basement out a bit more. I mean it's not really Of The Wyrm, you know? So. Yeah. Maybe if we figure out what it really is, we can figure out how to close it. And stuff. And that'd be good. So... anyone have ideas on how to look into this sort of thing?"

That's it. Erich sort of shrugs, stuffs his note back in his pocket, and hands the Bone back to the Truthcatcher. Then he goes back to hang out with the rest of the Republik.

[jamie]

Hector is sitting on a rock by the time the Fosterns and Cliaths have their turn to ask for the bone. Adrenaline and all the running around he did earlier helped to keep him warm during the elders' discussions. Helps that he actually pays attention when they're talking even if he doesn't entirely understand everything they're talking about.

He listens to Erich with his fingers knit together and both index fingers held up over his lips. It's a studious expression but the firelight and the darkness makes him look more grim than he does in the daylight.

At the end of the list his right hand flies up into the air and he stands up a second later to get the bone back from the burly Truthcatcher.

"Whole point of going down in the pit in the first place," he says, in reference to the night they fought Beloved Horror, "was to figure out what that thing was. Right?"

He lifts his eyebrows and points to himself with the end of the bone. Like Hi? Uktena child of Fog? Figured out how to weaken Beloved Horror? I might have an idea?

"I'll go back in and see if I can figure out what it is when I'm not getting torn up by Black Spiral Dancers."

He hands the bone back to the Truthcatcher.

[Samael]

Despite his clear and oft-stated desire to see the Cold Crescent re-opened--and his active participation in recruiting people to their cause, as well as his involvement in the small group taking up in the building--Javed does not step up to address the issue during the time when the Fosterns speak. There are two reasons for this. First, he has a student here at her first Moot and he wants to make sure that Ruby understands what is going on. So throughout the various challenges and disputes, he is quietly explaining to the cub the details of this greivence or that challenge, how it relates to the Litany and such. This precludes him stepping up in the middle of the conversation.

The second reason is a more calculated one. Erich and Javed have been in discussions about the Cold Crescent a time or two, and how to proceed. When Erich wanted to gather people together to address the issue, the Fostern suggested the general moot instead of another warmoot and they had agreed that it would be best for the Shadow Lord to speak first. Not only would it sound better coming from a Garou who was not a mule and a Silent Strider who might up and leave (he wouldn't, and no one who knows him well would think so but still...Striders), but there is a tactical element here in a Cliath bringing up the issue and then being backed up by a Garou of higher rank. Upward momentum is simply more effective than downward momentum.

And thus, Javed knows exactly who is speaking the second Erich begins discussing Cold Crescent. Even if he didn't recognize the speech patterns and movements of the man, he knows this is coming. He listens silently and calmly as Erich lays out the different things to bring up, and then rises. Hector speaks before he does; the Utkena volunteers to go back down to figure out what it is. He knows that there are others who can speak to that better than he and he is not a Theurge, after all. He will offer his own input on that after they do.

He takes the bone when it is available and turns to address the crowd. "Storm's Teeth speaks the truth, and I fully agree. There are a group of us--small, but growing--who have made no secret of our desire to re-open the Cold Crescent Sept. If we are to defend the city against the Wyrm--and, of course, we should--we will require a base of operations. Mistakes were made at the Cold Crescent previously. We knows those mistakes, and they are unlikely to be made again. Already the portal below the building is guarded, and it only makes sense to use the building that housed the Garou of the city for years without any risk, until a Black Spiral Dancer pack who were uniquely empowered--specifically, possessed--by nothing less than an Incarna of the Wyrm came in close proximity. That is the only reason that the Sept came under specific attack, and while members of that pack still unfortunately roam free the pack is shattered, the power of the Incarana gone from them. They do not have the ability to take it back."

He pauses there. These are arguments he has given before, to individuals. But now he explains their reasoning to the whole of the Nation within the Denver area and its environs. And he must be very precise. "There is another, more important reason to my mind in regard to this. A Sept is not just a base, a tactical striking point. It is a home. And for years, the Cold Crescent served as a home to many Garou, many kinfolk. No few Garou who are in attendence here tonight. And those Garou have been displaced from their home. That will not only make things more difficult tactically, it makes morale an issue. Displacing a population never plays out well. With all due respect to all, it would do those who gave their lives defending the Sept a dishonor if we were to abandon that which they died for.

"No Sept should be abandoned." He is more passionate here, this creature of great Rage who holds it deeply in reserve. He is not dispassionate; far from hit. He holds that great passion back behind walls and walls of honor and the laws of their people. And he lets that passion out as he speaks, lets his conviction hold true. "To give up the Sept of the Cold Crescent is give up ground. I do not believe that we should give that ground up, and there are those who believe that with us." He nods to Erich and his pack where they stand, looks at Avery. There are others too, but he does not single them out; it is their place to speak for themselves. "We must defend the portal. We must defend the city, and we must defend our home. That, respectfully, is our plan.”

A pause there. "Storm's Teeth has outlined concerns, and they are all valid. Patrols are taking place, though more help of course is always needed in that respect. I offer my services for any and all patrols when possible and when I am not engaged with pack or student. We need to raise the defenses again, both on this side of the Gauntlet and the other. Again, I offer my aid in however I may do so there. I am no expert in the ways of humans and I do not know the legalities of the matter. As to the pit...I believe there are others who can speak on that."

He lets a breath out, and looks to those Garou amassed. Higher ranking, lower ranking...all Garou get his look. And all with complete respect as they are due. "There are those who disagree with the idea of re-opening the city Sept. We are all aware of this, and we respect those opinions, even if it does not change what we feel we must do. Gaia willing, we will be able to surpass the doubts that lay out there regarding the Cold Crescent. We will not accept anything less of ourselves."

And with that, he hands the bone back and moves to sit.

[errin]

When Garou start talking about the pit beneath Cold Crescent, well then it's time for a Theurge to step forward.

In this case, the one who steps forward to take the bone is Siren of Persephone. She weaves through the crowd of Garou on four paws, a slim black shadow of a wolf that is all long limbs with a long, narrow face. At the edge of the gathering she melts into a form better suited toward eloquent speech. Not that Phoebe's known for such, but it'll be easier to get across finer details. In her Homid form the Black Fury is tall, her slenderness obscured by the bulkiness of winter clothing.

She holds out her hands to Final Word, and when she has the cracked bone in hand she turns to address her fellows.

"This is what my sisters and I have learned about the pit from our Elders. The pit beneath Cold Crescent," she does not say Broadway or the city building, but addresses it by its proper sept name, " doesn't appear to have been brought into being by the Beloved Horror or any other of our enemies, at least not in known history. Not even our Athros have been able to name or categorize it, but it's old. Maybe as old as Forgotten Questions, maybe older. My point is, it's been around for ages, and is likely a natural phenomenon, albeit an unusual and rare one.

"Every attempt by our Adrens and Elders to cover or close the hole has been unsuccessful. The creatures inside are monsters that don't respond to any language we know. I've heard the language it does respond to," she says, dark eyes solemn, distant. "I hope I never hear it again.

"Unfortunately, there are those who do know how to call out the monsters. And since it can't be closed and the only way to cover it has been to build a building over it, all we can do is watch over it, and keep out the riffraff." She looks out, tries to find Javed even though meeting his eye is impossible. She looks for Erich. And then she looks for the Elders of Forgotten Questions.

"Surely our watch will be made easier if the sept is re-opened and its defenses reestablished. If your concern is with our safety from the pit, the monsters only come out when they're called."

Turning, she returns the bone to the Truthcatcher and shifts back into lupus as she returns to her pack.

[tithe]

Tamsin reaches for the bone next. Tamsin doesn't speak up in moots all that often -- not outside the stories and tales portion and maybe during the revel. She can get pretty rambunctious during the revel, as relief with the stories and tales part floods her with adrenaline. But tonight, this moot, Tamsin reaches for the bone. The uncharitable and those who know her well might suspect that part of the reason she does is to make the cracking take longer. Maybe if it takes long enough, there won't be a stories and tales portion of the moot!

Once she has the bone, she takes a second to gather her thoughts and her nerve. Tamsin doesn't like speaking in front of crowds, though fuck if most people know it. The feel of the bone in her (cold) hands sooths her though, and once the second to gather her thoughts and control the wary lash of Rage, ever-ready to leap up on Full Moon nights is past, she says:

"Okay, um. A few things."

"About the Pit.

"I don't know if this has been tried yet, but maybe it'd be worth doing. Have any of the theurges asked one of the spirits -- one of the braver spirits, obviously, and probably one of the more cunning ones -- to go into the pit and see what it can see then come back? Obviously, we can't just go jumping into it. But the spirits are our allies, and the Pit seems to be something of another other-world, so maybe they can help us here. Or maybe they wouldn't come back. Or maybe they'd come back, but changed. And maybe we'd learn something from that. Hopefully, they'd come back and we'd just know a little more. Understand more about whatever's beyond.

"Siren of Persephone-rhya says that the Cold Crescent Pit has been around for ages and is probably a natural phenomenon, right? Well maybe there are other pits like it somewhere in the world. Or maybe there were. I know that a number of us are closely connected to our ancestors and sometimes those ancestors speak-up, help-out, lend a skill or some scrap of knowledge. I'm not one of them, but maybe those who have that connection can try to use it to remember a story about something like the Pit.

"Anything that old and that strange has to have attracted stories, and stories are only lost forever if we let that happen. Along that same, uh, um, that same topic, it's a strange ol' Pit. There have to be tales about something similar, even if the tales are old. I guess what I'm suggesting is a couple of Garou going out to other Septs, other Caerns, and spreading word that we're looking for tales about, spreading our own stories deliberately to catch something useful.

"Also, they'd know what was going on. The Pit shouldn't be a secret to our allies. Fog loves secrets and mischief, but Fog only hides things from its enemies. Unfortunately, the enemies already know what's up, so it's probably not a good idea to keep our allies in the dark."

"I also think that a City Sept is a good idea. Maybe a great idea. Maybe other Garou were cowards when they tried to form one up. Maybe they got lost in the idea and dishonored what they were in order to do what they thought needed to be done. But it's still a good idea."

"And, this is the last point for now I promise, but and... Look, defense is awesome, but we know that those heart-eating shit-holes want the Pit, right? Let's defend the fuck out of it. But maybe... We could also start to look more into turning the place into a trap? I guess the traps can be part of the defenses, but knowing what your foe wants is a good way to lure the foe into meeting its doom."

"It seems like we're always the ones who get surprised first. It'd be nice to change that."

Then she blushes: "That's all."

Cannot hand the bone back to the Truth-catcher hastily enough and go back to huddling-up with her pack.

[errin]

The bone is scarcely returned to the Truthcatcher's hands before a slender, lithe figure emerges from an edge of the gathering. Dances With the Hurricane seems truly a Lord of the Shadows; they come to her and cling to her, linger in her hair and seem to drape from her limbs like they're a part of her. Shadows and secrets, that's what she is.

Shadows, secrets, and tonight something like annoyance, maybe the leading edge of anger? It's hard to tell what this one feels. But as she passes the Fianna girl her dark eyes slant sideways and fix on her a moment. The Ragabash continues forward, toward the new guy, the Cliath, the Forseti. Eyes cast down, she lowers into a respectful bow, hands held out and up for the bone and when it is hers she turns. She looks to the left. Looks to the right.

She looks for Tamsin. And she stalks because she can't help it. Ingrid's carriage is that of graceful dancer, or feral predator. Despite the expensive fabrics she drapes over her human-skin, she gives off the latter aura far stronger than the former. Ingrid stalks to the edge of the circle, stops a few feet away, tips her chin in an effort to help her voice carry, and asks the Galliard,

"Would you draw them toward the Caern's heart for a trap?" Her tone is not derogatory, her carriage is not angry, neither is it defensive. She is making a point. She is making these Garou think.

Looks for Hector because Hector is Tamsin's packmate, her Alpha. "Would you lead them to your kinswoman's house for a trap?"

She looks for others, asks the same. Would you...for a trap? Those she hasn't seen on patrols around the city building. Those she has. She's been with them, see, with Javed and the others, not always in secret, not always in the shadows. She's patrolled with them and fought with them and defended them. She asks a few more, would you would you? before she returns to something like a central location.

"This is what you ask of him," she says, hefting the bone in one arm and pointing out with the other to Javed, who only a few minutes ago called the building home. "This is what you ask of those who follow him."

She returns the bone with another bow, and then she goes off to wherever. Bound to no one, Ingrid goes where she pleases.

[tithe]

Tamsin is still blushing when Ingrid sluices out of the shadows and she bites her lip when Ingrid asks her questions. Her reaction is mixed, but at least some of it is secretly pleased. Yay, a Ragabash questioning her thoughts means that she's a real Garou! Worth questioning! But let's be real: this is not least because it's more time away from the Tales. Her eyebrows slash together once, Rage-prickle, that's not what I, and she looks at Hector when Ingrid looks at Hector, and then she comes forward again for the bone that lets her speak.

When she has it in her hands again, she says:

"No, of course not. Do they know where our caern is? Do they know how to get to our caern? I -- uh, hm. Do they? I can't answer those questions, but I'd guess not. I'd guess either 'not' or, um, that they believe it to be a stronghold, too dangerous to broach even with Green Dragon -- you know?

"But they know about the Pit. They know about what's beneath Cold Crescent's building. They know about all those tunnels. Know them better than we do. Would I lead them to just... any sacred spot or kinsperson's house for a trap? Fuck no. That'd be telling secrets.

But I would take a place they know and we know they'll return to and make it not just a fortress against them but a place for them to die. Make their knowing and their wanting into an advantage for us, instead of just a worry to defend against."

[jamie]

Hector crosses his arms over his chest and lifts his eyebrows when Ingrid asks a rhetorical question. Maybe it isn't a rhetorical. Maybe he actually would lead Beloved Horror to his kinswoman's home to lay a trap. This is a Galliard who stood up a few moons ago to tell a story about what a badass she is. It was a foolish thing to do. But she'd blow at least one of their heads off before they tripped the trap.

And he stands by his pack-sister as she counters the Ragabash's question. Maybe not right by her because Tamsin has the floor but he doesn't grab for the bone or jabber at her over the totem phone to get her to change tactics.

If she's wrong then he's the same kind of wrong she is.