A subtle undulation of the land forms an curious, natural spiral in the open ground. One side of the formation rises to create a half-circle or crescent of earth surrounding and encompassing the spiral. The ground is littered with rock and flagstones, both large and small. Someone has carefully gathered up a trove of these and erected a clear fire pit. Flagstones with smooth surfaces have been laid along the upper lip of half circle of earth around the fire pit, turning it into a nice seating area. All debris and flammable material's been removed from within the spiral, and a fire has been laid. Just beyond the spiral's edge, wood has been collected and piled for future use. Surrounding this, the rugged walls of the canyon have been half buried by the Wyld surge, making the upper slope of the valley more gentle than it was before. Stands of Douglas fir and white pines mix with hemlock, lodgepole pines, and western larch trees to fill much of the open space, but the trees here are not nearly as dense as they are in the surrounding forests of the bawn. The sparse woods allows a partial view of the sky, and both sun and moonlight filter down to create enigmatic and beautiful shadow patterns on the forest floor. That floor is blanketed with a thick, soft rug of shed pine needles, lichen and leaf debris. The moss-covered relics of old, dead trees occasionally mark a place where once great sentinels loomed above.
The caern expands in two directions from here. The escarpment wall and raised dais form one point of the new triangle, while the center of the caern and its gigantic, Wyld-influenced tree marks the other. The only obvious way out of the caern is the valley slope that leads to the central bawn.
This quiet clearing among the dense forest is home to soft mosses and lichen, the loam a mix of dark soil, old but still prickly pine needles, and dead leaves and other organic matter. Near the center stands the Story Tree, a short and squat ponderosa pine with broad branches. Normally the ponderosa is a giant of the forest, but this little tree seems content to dominate only this little clearing. Nevertheless, the Story Tree has thick branches, and one in particular crooks downward to form a convenient climbing hold for those that which to sit among the strong lower branches. Care should be taken, however, for this pine's needles are sharp.
The bawn's forest lies in all directions. A pathway leads through the central part of the bawn towards the caern.
Compact is the word for him: wiry, maybe 5'6" in his beat-up black combat boots, with a sense of compressed energy and imminence like a coiled spring -- or a cocked gun. Never quite still for long, balance flowing through the balls of his feet. There's a striking intensity to his narrow blue-green eyes, the colour contrasting with his fair skin and spiky copper hair; just below the left is what at first appears to be a faint mole, but closer inspection reveals as a small, long-healed scar. His features are appealing, with high cheekbones and a good jawline, but it's the confident mien and roguish smile that most often seem to draw people in.
He's in a well-worn biker jacket of the traditional sort, all fairly closely fit black leather and silvery zippers and snaps. Beneath it, he's got old black jeans with a rip in one knee and the cuffs half walked off, with a faded black band t-shirt ('Anarchy Burger - Hold the Government', parodying the In-N-Out sign) under an open dark red hawaiian shirt. There's a couple leather-and-bead bracelets on one wrist and a length of ball-chain disappearing beneath his collar; his nails were apparently painted black some time ago, since they're starting to show chips. Late teens, most likely, and when he speaks it's in a mellifluous, southern-accented baritone voice.
Briari stands at a fairly average height of five foot three with shoulder length curly blonde hair. Her eyes are a soft blue color. She has a lean, lanky build about her which appears built more for running than lifting. She tends to dress in boring jeans and shirts purchased at the local Hot Topic. Geekery shirts with logos of Adventure Time, My Little Pony, Futurama, Star Wars, etc. She rarely wears make up or jewelry. She has a bit of a southern tan complexion from living in Georgia.
This man is somewhere around six inches above six feet and looking to have about three hundred or so pounds of muscle on him. His beard is about three weeks grown in, worn on a face which is a haunted mask of concentration. His eyes, dark enough to seem black, are full of shadows and have a habit of quickly dancing in random directions. Hair, recently dyed a light brown, is showing silvery grey roots, and is growing out from having been recently cut short.
Jamethon currently wears a light green linen shirt under a pristine brown leather jacket and a pair of black, well-fitted and heavy canvas jeans. Around his neck hangs a copper disc set in with a shield cut piece of brilliant forest-green jade at its center (look jamethon's pendant). On his feet are what appears to be some kind of thickly bound, sheepskin boot.
Scars on his forehead, just below his bangs, are the tips of a set of three jagged scars that travel up and back, the rest covered by the Fenrir's hair. A large myriad collection of scars adorn his visage at other various points as well (+detail Jamethon's scars).
This is a North American cougar (Puma concolor couguar), which is not an uncommon animal in Washington State, although they are rarely seen by humans. Typical of the species, it has a slender, muscled body with a round head and pointed ears. Like most cougars, this particular specimen is substantially longer, taller, and heavier than the average wolf. He likely tips the scales at about 160lbs and measures nearly 8' from nose to tail: Much of that is certainly tail. This cougar's pelt is slightly more reddish-orange than usual, although not unusually so. Lithe, powerful, sinuous musculature is readily visible beneath the cat's short fur, giving some indication as to the power and speed available to this apex predator should it choose to use it. The black "moustache" marking around his nose and mouth is more pronounced than usual, giving the feline's already-handsome face an even more suave--almost debonaire--appearance.
Consumes-Shadows shows as a heavy dire wolf, far larger than any modern lupine - more bear than wolf. His face is lean and wary, though much of him is built stout and strong. His shaggy, dense coat shows the distinctly darker fur traditional of Shadow Lords. It is mostly a warmer toned black with brown ticking and a few lighter patches around his shoulders. His eyes show a pale yellow under a fierce, heavy expression - at least the one. The blind right one is set in a couch of talon scars. There's a haunted look to his visage, like he has seen terrible things and was never quite was the same after. Paws end in black claws and his heavy jaws are full of sharp teeth. The scars on the lower portions of his two forelegs are dominantly visible, jagged and ash-stained. Numerous other small scars mark him, with the only other of note being a larger, superficial scar across his stomach.
Trace stands six feet in height, with a confidence and certainty to his bearing that makes him seem a little taller, but still the last vestiges of the awkward gangliness of teenagerhood as well. A hint of five o'clock shadow frames a tanned face, hazel-green eyes under perpetually messy hair that reaches just past his ears. The man is dressed neatly, but the clothing is designed to give him ease of movement-- jeans, black leather converse shoes, and a worn leather bomber jacket that's never far from his person over a plain dark blue button-down shirt with a button-down collar worn with enough buttons open to see the white a-shirt underneath and the hint of a tattoo on one shoulder. Today the sleeves are rolled up, nearly to his elbows.
Six-Shooter is broad-chested and broad-shouldered. Green-hazel lupine eyes peer out from behind a slightly darker mask on his muzzle, and his fur fades from dark grey on his back and head to lighter grey on his chest and limbs. He is on the larger side for a wolf, and there's no mistaking the strength throughout his frame, nor the tightly controlled single-purposed anger buried behind his composure. There are scars on his right foreleg and shoulder where fur no longer grows.
~Maybe they're just waiting to bring me a singing telegram.~ Consumes-Shadows remarks as he lays by the newly rekindled fire. ~I figure if they wanted to give me a message, they know where to find me. No one has been back to the Vault, to my knowledge, since the incident happened. One I'm not concerned with spending our forces on but knowing who might be waiting to take on the victor will be.~
Brings-the-Pack says "It might be worthwhile, if you have not done so already, telling the garou to stay away from that area because it is being watched and there are potential plans afoot for using the wraith watching the place." He's seated around the fire pit, speaking with the sept alpha. "Lest someone who's ambitious inadvertently bungle things for the sept."
Having slipped her cell phone out of her back pocket and turned it on, Briari takes a moment to look around and ensure that no angry spirit was coming to devour her, then starts to take notes. "Okay, so maybe what we can do is start having a couple of us with senses that are supernatural start putting eyes on the Garage and House as well and sweep the area in intervals. If they do have eyes on us, then they most likely are using those invisible asshats. If we can subtly spot them near by, we can create a diversion and draw them away, perhaps pick them off. We can create a dummy house and make a bit show of moving our stuff there. That is where we could set the potential trap perhaps? Pick a place farther from the bawn and caern. Make them think we are on the run and they are a step ahead of us."
Felix walks through the bawn rather more quietly than usual; no singing or even humming today, nor any use of trees and rocks as an ersatz jungle gym. Just plain walking, smoking a cigarette, and looking fairly lost in thought. Well, there have been those who'd claim it was unfamiliar territory. He actually gets a few steps into the caern proper before he catches the voices and the group itself, blinking once and then heading their way. As he goes, he pinches the cigarette out and slips it into a pocket. "Mornin'."
Consumes-Shadows gives a nod of his shaggy Hispo head. ~If possible, there is also something I'd ask the Walkers to look into - or anyone with the means. Peter, my kinsman who was working in the Tower, said he was leaving the area because they had learned of a mole in the Tower. However, the fact they knew where the Vault was makes me suspicious they either got info out of him and he was trying to run from them or that he's working for the Queen now. He checks in regularly on my phone. Numbers were coming up across Europe and have settled in Russia. I want to know if that's really where those calls are coming from.~ He turns an ear back as he hears Felix and gives a grunt of a greeting to the Gnawer.
Brings-the-Pack glances upwards from the small flames in the fire pit to Felix, offering him a nod in greeting, before turning to address Briari. "We already know they have an invisible wraith watching the garage. No need to risk tipping our hand--or potentially losing a garou scout--by stationing someone at that location. Otherwise? Yes. What you said sounds reasonable. To me. But I have no authority over any garou."
"We know they have them but we do not know /where/ they are at. I think it would be beneficial of us to at least know where they are positioned, and what their interval to arrival and departure is. Do they sit there all day? Is there a window open when they are not watching the house? Do they take pee breaks?" Briari says as she continues to tap away into her phone. "Give me those phone numbers if you can, please. I also have a gift in which I can track anyone and anything wherever they go as long as they are still breathing. With your permission, I can give you that answer."
Felix settles down on one of the logs as well, and pulls the soda bottle slightly awkwardly wedged into another pockets out of it. Most of the bits he's overheard so far seem clear enough, except for: "...which house are they watchin', an' who needs trackin'?"
~It may just be paranoia but that hasn't steered me wrong yet.~ Consumes-Shadows says to Briari. ~Find where he is. Best case scenario, I have nothing to worry about and he's far away. Worst case, my suspicions are right and we have a hole to plug. I've purposely refused to provide him any details of what's going on just in case.~ He takes to his homid form in order to access his phone and pulls up his call log and offering it to Briari. "Just don't actually do anything with the phone." He cautions before looking to Felix. "The Vault is being watched by a wraith, so be careful with the pack in that area. And I'm having Briari make sure Peter is really where he says he is."
Brings-the-Pack stays silent while the garou sort and settling things amongst themselves. He bows his head low again towards the fire and blows on it a second time, coaxing more life into the flames and eliciting the healthy crackles associated with an established, not-about-to-go-out-soon fire.
Briari jots down the numbers into her notes app, then settles back upon her haunches. "No problem, I will see if I can pull a read from the number. I have a few backdoor sites that I use ... for reasons... that can triangulate IP addresses of numbers used. Especially if they are mobile phones because they have to hit a certain tower, regardless of area code. So, if you buy a burner phone with a Russian sim card because it can be used on an International band, if you call within the US, it still locks that number to the cell tower. So, it may take a few days, but as far as my gift, I can only track as far as I can travel. So.... I may need to buy a plane ticket, or rent daddy's private jet to get closer to him if he is out of state."
"Will do," Felix replies to the instruction, and to the other answer, "...huh." He takes a sip of his drink, and looks at the others consideringly. "Hey, so... that ward they had -- it prevented us from doin' any kind of lookin' in or gettin' in from the Umbra, but they could look out an' get out that way fine, right?"
"If he really is where he says he is then we should be alright to ignore him for now." Thane says to Briari. "But if he's still around then we have reason to be concerned considering he said he was fleeing." He takes the phone back and pockets it and looks back to Felix. "To my understanding that was the case."
"I am sure he is where he said he would be. I can't imagine Peter lying about something like this." Briari says as she fiddles with the phone as her fingers tap away quickly along the glass screen. "Hey, Felix." She finally quips towards him after the phone is put into her pocket after powering down.
Felix nods, and squints at the fire a moment before looking at the others again. "Ain't some way we could more or less put somethin' pretty much just like it back up, only inside out, is there? Maybe even if so, we wouldn't wanna do it until we were ready to do other shit against 'em, 'cause I reckon they'd notice somethin' like that pretty damn quick an' dependin' how it could be done maybe they'd be able to counter it, but if we could an' we could right before we did shit, I was thinkin' that'd sure cut down on the flight risk."
Thane squints aside to Felix at his suggestion. "You mean enclose them in some sort of barrier they can't see out of? While in theory it may be possible, I don't know we could amass that much spiritual effort to make it a meaningful attempt. Trouble too being some of their forces are already outside the Tower, while we had none inside - at least in the spiritual zone."
Brings-the-Pack finishes tending to the fire and eases back on his haunches, listening in on the garou and their conversations, but not contributing. Yet.
"I think finding a way to cut off the wraiths from their hive mind would be a cool idea if possible. They probably would have no clue what to do with themselves if we did. Maybe they would just fall down dead or something. You think maybe the Queen can see through their eyes if she is the one that created them? Maybe she sent the others out here to put eyes on us."
Felix nods again, this time to Thane, "Yeah, basically, although I reckon can't get out of is more important if we had to pick, given, like you say, she already got some forces out here an'," he looks to Briari, "yeah, from what I've been told, she can see through their eyes. Sees what they see, knows what they know. We," from the glance, he apparently means the cougar, "were talkin' the other day about tryin' to cut their connection if we can't use it against 'em directly. Rock if it made 'em just collapse like puppets with their strings cut, but even if it just made 'em panic. I got the impression theirs is a lot more intense than a pack link is, like theirs is always passin' shit back an' forth, but that ain't first-hand or nothin', just... like I say, the impression I get from what folks've been sayin'." The four are all by the firepit this morning, and Felix leans forward a bit on the log he's sitting on, resting an elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand, then takes another sip from his soda bottle. "Been thinkin' about a lotta shit, but nothin' I actually know how to DO, or even how someone else would." Another glance to the cougar, "Did you get to see the bodies yet?"
Around the edge of the the caern, a wolf can be seen making his way in, though for the moment Six-Shooter does not rush to immediately join the others.
"I have not yet been given an opportunity to examine the wraith's bodies. I would very much like to do so, though. Now that more pressing matters have been attended to," the cougar replies to Felix. "Based upon what I have observed, my suspicion--and this is merely my suspicion--is that the Queen periodically touches the minds of the wraiths, gathering information and issuing commands if need be. I do not think severing the link--if that is possible--will result in the wraiths no longer functioning. It should, however, result in them not coordinating very well while apart or in the heat of battle. Like a pack that lost its ability to communicate with one another through its totem spirit. The pack does not fall down, but the pack's effectiveness at functioning as a whole is weakened."
"Darn, I was kinda hoping they would be puppets." Briari says as she gives a stretch of her body, then waves to Six-Shooter as she spies him. Her nose wrinkles up a bit as she thinks for a few more minutes, then lets out a long sigh. "I will go about looking at some abandoned properties and see if I can make a cash deal on one in case we need a back up safe house, or a dummy house to blow up with the bad guys in it."
"And on that note, I'm going to see if there's any likely abandoned properties we can use and save the money." Thane says as he gets to his feet. "The primary goal is make sure people know to avoid Edgewood and be on high alert out here. We need to move fast. Briari, I will catch up with you later. I'll be back here in a few hours." The Lord resumes his Hispo form and heads back to the bawn, giving a passing whuff of greeting towards Six-Shooter as he goes.
Felix sighs, just a puff of breath that'd probably rustle his bangs if he had any. "Yeah, woulda been nice," he agrees, "...but yeah, even at that level you'd think it'd hurt their coordination. I ain't had a packlink to work with long, but it definitely helps with that. ...I wonder if most of 'em can even talk? I mean," a fleeting sidelong glance toward Thane, "as far as I know, we ain't heard a peep outta most of 'em, the usual ones." He glances over at the hint of movement, recognizes the wolf, and greets it with a grin and a quick lift of the chin. "Later," he says to Thane as the Alpha takes his leave, and is about to take another sip of his drink when he pauses. "Wait, wait. Avoid Edgewood?" With Thane leaving, it's Briari and Brings-the-Pack he looks to with that.
Six-Shooter whuffs quietly in greeting and twists his head to watch the Shadow Lord depart, before heading down to the firepit. The Walker pads down towards the others, and twists his head sideways, almost an echo of Felix's question. Good morning, he adds.
"Yes. Avoid Edgewood," the cougar confirms with his usual electronically masked voice. "I sensed a strong undercurrent of change and chaos that may soon occur there and here, in the caern. They are the two most likely to be attacked places the garou currently use and inhabit. Though the future is always in motion, it seems probable something will happen in those two areas. It would be inadvisable for kin, cubs, or perhaps even young cliaths to stay at Edgewood."
"Well... fuck," Felix says, and glances skyward. "What shit I had left's at Edgewood. Not to mention food. Roofs. Hot runnin' water." Another of those sighs, this one somewhat heavier, and he takes a bigger, faintly aggressive swallow of his drink. "Fuck, the Caddy's parked there, too... well, fuck it, reckon I'm at least goin' back to get some shit. Mine, an' maybe some food an' the burners an' the infrared shit Lin brought..." The cougar and the homids are seated by the fire, and the wolf is just joining them. The Galliard looks to him, asking, "Wanna come with when I do?"
Six-Shooter nods, in a very human fashion. We should focus on the caern, but. There is a long pause, and Six-Shooter's tail thumps on the ground once, and then he shifts back to homid. "If we have a good idea of where things are coming, then we know where to focus our forces and such. The area of Edgewood should be part of patrols by more experienced Garou, if nothing else." He pauses. "Unless," he asks the cougar-mage, "you think that if the house is left empty they will simply leave it alone." And to Felix, he says, "Damn straight I will. I've got some stuff I left there too, even though I was in town last night."
Jamethon comes down into the Caern, using his signature Chimeric spear as a walking stick for no required purpose, other than he seems to enjoy it. Seeing the gathered around the pit, he heads on over their way. His expression is neutral, and his pace can be described as such, as well.
"They might leave Edgewood alone if it is abandoned. There's talk of formulating a trap of sorts, and a few other ideas being passed around. Share any ideas you come up with with Thane and Briari. But if I were you," the cougar advises the other garou around the fire, voice electronically masked to sound like Kylo Ren in his helmet, "I would not sleep there nor store valuables there nor let kin nor cubs reside there."
"I can go with you also. At least I can turn invisible and I can see them through my cyber senses where you guys can't. That way if there is trouble, I can let you know can bounce out." Briari says with a nod of her head.
Felix cracks a smile at the cougar, "If you were me we wouldn't know to avoid it." He nods to Briari, and sets his bottle down carefully to pull a small binocular sort of thing out of his pants pocket instead. "Lin left a bowl of these, 'sposed to work for seein' 'em too. But I'm pretty sure your way works slicker." He glances around with the binoculars as long as he has them out anyway; might as well. There's a pause in that when the gaze falls on Jamethon, and he lowers them to give the massive man a, "Mornin'. ...anyway, I reckon if no one's at Edgewood it matters less if they do shit to it anyhow. Not that I wanna see it fucked up, but." Shrug. "Definitely caern priority."
Trace snorts, and not quite with amusement, but he simply nods and is silent for a bit. "I still got the binoculars you gave me, too," he tells Briari, "but yeah. We'll work it out." The newcomer gets a glance, and then more of a studying gaze, and then a polite inclination of his head as he offers his introduction. "I'm Trace Garza, called Six-Shooter. Ahroun and Fostern of the Glass Walkers." More generally, he adds, "I talked to Mouse yesterday and got things settled in terms of Chiminage. I need to teach three, any combination of rites and gifts." Whatever is off about the ahroun's grammar is quite easily explained by the hint of a Latin American Spanish accent when he talks.
Jamethon arrives near the group, his approach slow enough to listen to the conversation a bit before he arrives. He lifts the lightly glowing fetish from around his neck and presents it, "Perhaps the Fulgent Pendant can be of help. It can detect the presence and type of magic. I felt that with our recent troubles... this was a defense we needed." He gives an unscrutable and quick glance towards Brings for a moment before giving a more general look towards the group once more.
"Not a matter of being slick, just very efficient. I need to get stuff out of the house as well. We definitely need to scour the place and remove any contact information that may be lingering about." Briari says as she hops up to her feet again and dusts off her knees. "Morning James-Rhya." She says to the large Fenrir. "Mage cat here says he shifts some major chaos coming to the Caern and to the house on Edgewood which is probably going to be an attack."
Brings-the-Pack rises from his haunches to regard the massive Get who has recently arrived. "If you would permit it at some future time, I would very much like to examine your pendant and discuss how it works," the feline says in English. "And as Briari has partially explained, I am Brings-the-Pack. A warper allied with the sept. I do not believe we have formally met before."
Felix quirks a brow at Briari. "'s what I said," he replies dryly, "...'slicker'." The binoculars are returned to the pocket, and he picks up the bottle again. "Is that the Fetish you were workin' on?" he asks Jamethon, sounding fairly impressed with the idea, and leans in a bit to look when it's presented, although given the height difference even if he weren't sitting, the inch or so a lean gives isn't going to particularly matter. "What counts as magic to it?"
"Or leave what information we want them to find," Trace points out, drumming lightly on his knee with the fingers of one hand. "If we are going to go through with the whole 'use it as a trap' plan, at least." He lifts his shoulders and offers Felix a broad grin. "Everyone also needs to coordinate parking their cars a /significant/ distance from the Bawn, and in a variety of locations so no one car stands out. It'll suck somewhat, but taking the long way when possible going out to the Bawn is advisable, given everything that is going on."
Jamethon eyes the Gnawer Galliard with curiousity and holds out the pendant (look Jame's fulgent pendant) for closer inspection. "Magic. Active magic. Activated Fetishes, still working ritual effects, gifts, Warper spells, the /disciplines/ of vampires, spirit powers, even those of what the spirit called hedge wizards and changelings. Perhaps more. But whatever it finds, must still be /active/. This it not a tool to see what was done in the past, but what is happening /Now/." He looks more pointedly towards Brings-The-Pack and squints his eyes, "I am Jamethon Reflections-Howl, Adren Godi of the Fenrir and Gatekeeper of the Triquetral Accord. Your request, ally, is reasonable and with supervision I am willing to allow your examination in exchange for similar experimental information returning to us. We... can discuss details at your leisure."
Jamethon's Fulgent Pendant:
This disc of dull raw copper has a shield cut piece of brilliant forest green jade set into the center of it. The Nordic runes for light and fire are carved in a relief into the copper on the left and right of the stone, and the runes for sun and vessel to the top and bottom. This all is bound with a leather thong in a square pattern around the stone, coming together on the top to form a necklace. The stone gives a gentle glow as if reflecting the light of a flickering torch.
Brings-the-Pack seems to concur with the Get. "Very well. At some future point. You will likely soon be hearing about how I have sensed a disruption inthe caern's future. I do not know when nor by what means, but there it is no real reach to realize that it is probably a future attack waged by the Queen and her minions. A similar fate appears to be in the cards for Edgewood. However, Harbor Park's glade does not appear to be a target. Thane has been alerted, and I suspect preparations for enhancing defenses may soon occur."
Felix grins back at Trace, and hops to his feet to go take a better look at the new Fetish, though he doesn't quite touch it. "Nice," he declares, no less impressed, "So basically everythin' we know about an' prolly some shit we don't. Kick ass." He heads back to where he was sitting, and stretches, careful not to spill. "The Caddy stands out no matter where she's parked," he says to the Walker as he sits again, not sounding at all displeased by this fact, "but yeah, I reckon you're right. Hafta think about where."
Trace doesn't move from where he's seated, but his attention is clearly on the Fetish for a long moment, curiosity evident in his gaze before he nods to Felix. "Yeah. Either that, or you need something that doesn't stick out as much for a bit, put your car somewhere safe in the mean time." He purses his lips. "There's a truck stop motel thing, out on the edge of town? Cars won't stick out as much parked there at least for a few days at a time, because it's somewhere that is more or less expected to have traffic. Nor can they keep track of if the people parked there are actually present, I'd think."
Jamethon looks over at the Warper and considers a moment, "Also, my bike is fast and though she don't look like much, she's built just as much for off-roading as the open road. Think you could make 'er quiet for a while? She'd be just about the fastest way to get between city and Bawn for someone who ain't got the legs for running and if she ain't gonna be loud it'd be a pretty neat trick to get in quick from an unexpected angle." He then places the Pendant back around his neck and touches the jade set into it with his middle-finger and focuses on activating it. The center stone suddenly swirls with color and becomes aglow with violetish-blue light. The Gatekeeper concludes, "The strong blue is the from the Spirit magics here in the Caern, but that violet tint comes from our Ally here," he indicates Brings though perhaps does not need to.
Brings-the-Pack cocks his head inquisitively as the fetish is demonstrate to those present. He seems to be paying it quite a bit of attention.
"Yeah, ain't a bad plan, just a long way," Felix says to Trace, "...actually, wonder how much it'd cost to actually have a room there? Reckon it'd have a shower. Although I s'pose whatever it was'd be a lot for a shower." A slight shrug, and he focuses on the Fetish being used instead, studying it. He looks to the mage-cat and opens his mouth, then shuts it with a small snort of laughter. "Caught myself about to ask whatcha had active," he tells the warper, "...then I remembered, right, cougar's a part time gig. Weird how easy it is to get used to chattin' with a robot-voiced cat." Says a guy who regularly turns into a wolf.
Trace lifts his shoulder. "It's not where I stayed the first night I was in town, but it might be worthwhile," he muses in response to Felix. "Showers are kinda /muy importante/, in my book." That, at least, is obvious enough what is being said. "And it's a long way, sure, but it's less of a long way on four legs, and there's plenty of woods and cover for the most part."
"Much, I am sure, as how easily I sometimes forget I am conversing with bloodthirsty werewolves," Brings-the-Pack responds to Felix. "And find myself wondering how hot showers can be such an obstacle whenn many of your kind live their lives in the woods. But," he adds, "Surely there must be a hot spring around here somewhere that would do in a pinch."
"I got a whole chapter on 'em," Felix replies to Trace, grinning, and to Brings, "...an' I dunno, I think I'm more beerthirsty, myself. Blood ain't real quenchin'. Anyhow, ain't like I =can't= live without showers, I just like 'em. There's =reasons= I ain't one of my kind that lives in the woods. ...although bein' fair, didn't have runnin' water in the places in the city I was livin' before I got here, let alone hot, so." He shrugs. "Spring'd do in a pinch, other ways to deal with it too, but given the choice..."
Jamethon lowers the fetish back to rest on his chest though the light remains glowing gently. The Fenrir shakes his head at his fellow Garou and remakes to Brings', "It isn't an obstacle. It's a crutch." Diplomatic, ain't he? The Gatekeeper continues, "This trouble that is coming, Brings-The-Pack... in your visions, are there failed preperations or specific deaths that you witnessed?"
Trace offers Brings-the-Pack a very feral, toothy smile in response to the 'bloodthirsty' comment. "Some of us appreciate modern amenities given the chance," he notes. "After all, blood and such has a tendency to be... messy." Though the tone of voice seems to imply that the ahroun nonetheless doesn't mind.
"Vision?" Brings-the-Pack shakes his head negatively yet responds to Jamethon by claiming, "Unfortunately, I have no greater details that there is probably going to be something significant that happens at the caern and at Edgewood unless something happens to change that fate. The future is malleable, not fixed, so I imagine greater diligence, preparation, and actions taken to distract or mislead a potential foe might have positive outcomes for those two areas. But unaddressed, something will almost certainly happen."
Felix gives the heavens a brief, beseeching glance. "Ain't an obstacle OR a crutch. It's a luxury. But it's a fuckin' nice little one an' ain't nothin' wrong with that." He has a swallow of his drink, leaning back a bit and glancing around the caern consideringly.
Jamethon considers the words of the Warper, "There is much to learn about each other's magics. How they come to us seems to differ greatly." The Fenrir gives Felix a neutral glance, then looks back to Brings' without comment. He adds with gruff and concerned tones, "Your aid is greatly appreciated. Blood will be spilled, of that I am sure. Some of it ours and there is never much to be done about that." He then adds with less comfort towards Felix, "Luxury is the definition of a crutch."
"There is nothing 'potential' about the enemy that we are facing, nothing at all," Trace says, letting the words hang in the air after he says them, his jaw and hand both clenching until his fingers nearly dig into his knee, and in that moment he's on his feet-- and thankfully turning away from the others present rather than towards anyone. His voice is harder and the words more forceful and clipped than usual, and the glare that comes with the words, though undirected, is full of pain, anger, hate, and a desire to do violence to something sooner than later, but willpower and ironclad control keeps any of that from coming into fruition as the ahroun stands nearly stone-still.
Brings-the-Pack seems to recognize when a garou is nearing the edge of frenzy. He goes motionless save for watching Trace's motion, perhaps an attempt by the large predator to not appear to be a threat. The results may be mixed.
"No it ain't. A crutch is somethin' you need to get along. A luxury's just a thing that makes life nicer, like chocolate or leather jackets," Felix says, but anything else along those lines is lost to Trace's remarks, and his following stance. He goes quiet, letting the Ahroun focus on self-control without distraction from his corner. At least for the moment.
Jamethon doesn't seem as concerned with the near-Frenzying Fostern, the Adren a little annoyed himself, at the moment. He looks over to Brings' and offers in a neutral bland tone of voice, "Your business here is concluded for the day, yes?" The Godi gestures around the immediate area of the firepit with a sweeping hand as he speaks.
Trace manages to push back the beast and the rage, but apparently not enough, because a low growl comes, and before he has turned around to sit back down again, the ahroun goes still once more, fingernails digging into his palm.
Brings-the-Pack responds by creeping backwards slowly and then walking--not running--away from Trace and towards the treeline.
Jamethon stands, and has managed to silently and quickly melt up into the Glabro body, facing Trace. His muscle fibers are like steel cables, able to be seen through dedicated clothing. The Fenrir has an expression, complete with parted lips revealing clenching teeth, that somehow mixes both apprehension and anticipation.
Felix rises, still holding his drink, and moves toward Trace -- not quite his usual saunter, but a surprisingly casual walk nonethless -- to get in front of him. "Trace," he says quietly, "Hey. We're good, yeah? This ain't LA." He watches the Ahroun closely while he talks, and there's a tiny pause before he adds, "You wanna get a smoke?"
Pack> Justin says "What's going on?"
Pack> Felix says "Brings-the-Pack said somethin' Trace took kinda wrong. He's fightin' a frenzy. Hard."
Pack> Justin says "You need me to regulate?"
Through the trees comes a curious Justin as it seems that he may have picked up on his pack mate's feelings from the distance and decided to hurry over. Today he is wearing a sleeveless tank top and a pair of black cargo jeans. He looks to be covered in sweat and red scratches along his body with leaves stuck in his hair.
Trace looks towards Felix, and the near murderous intensity that the ahroun's gaze has had lessens, somewhat, and he swallows. He lets out a breath, and breathes slowly, and then nods to Felix. "Yeah, we're good," he replies, barely audible. His glance flicks towards both the retreating Brings-the-Pack and the now-glabro Gatekeeper, then back to Felix, and slowly, the ahroun's hands unclench. "We're good. And yeah, that's an idea." The Walker reaches into one of the interior pockets of his jacket to fumble out a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter, flipping the pack open to draw one out.
Pack> Felix says "Jamethon's ready to do shit, if talkin' don't work. Might be fragile right now, don't push stuff.... <there's a relieved feeling> There we go."
Brings-the-Pack exits quietly through the trees, disappearing like a shadow.
Pack> Felix says "...oh, an' we're supposed to avoid Edgewood. Make sure folks know if you see 'em. The mage senses some kinda future chaos an' shit there. ...an' here, but, well."
Pack> Justin says "Hooray. Sounds fun. Does that mean I can booby trap the house?"
Felix caps his drink and sticks it in his jacket pocket, where it sticks out awkardly, but it frees his hands to go to the other one and extract the tin he keeps his own smokes in. "C'mon, let's take a walk," he suggests, indicating off into the bawn with a tilt of his head. Justin gets a chin lift of greeting, though only a faint smile, not the usual grin.
Jamethon takes a long, slow, steadying breath that has some definite... vibration to the end of it. With this, he melts back to the human body. The Fenrir stretches out as if just waking from a long night's sleep, complete with yawn. Now that there appears to be no need for violent intervention, he seems bored. The Fulgent Pendant has gone completely blue now, as the Mage has departed.
Pack> Felix says "Not yet. There's gonna be some talk about what we wanna do, I think. But me an' Trace an' Briari were plannin' to go in an' grab shit. Be like clippin' the place, except it's our own stuff. Heh."
Rubbing at his nose for a moment, Justin saunters towards the trio once the mage cat leaves, then says, "Hey guys." He gives a look to Trace before flicking back to Felix. He lifts a hand to wave towards James as well.
Trace lights his cigarette and takes a long drag from it, visibly calming just a touch more. He's still on edge, but there's no imminent threat. With a nod of acknowledgment towards Jamethon, Trace turns back to the Galliard. "Yeah, that's probably good." Justin gets a brief nod of greeting, a halfway voiced, "Hola," but Trace is reserved.
Pack> Justin says "What did Brings-the-Pack say to rile him up?"
"Mornin', J," Felix replies, and there's something closer to his usual grin to go along with it. "We're gonna take a stroll." The tone suggests that whether this is information or invitation is up to the listener. He gets out a cigarette of his own, and adds to Jamethon, "'scuse us a few. Also, that pendant's still awesome," before he starts to the treeline. Not, one might possibly note, in the same direction BtP left.
Pack> Felix says "He was talkin' about his sense that somethin' significant an' bad happens at Edgewood an' the caern unless somethin' changes that fate, an' he said somethin' about actions taken to mislead 'a potential foe'."
"Yeah, I'll tag along if it's cool." Justin says to the pair as he gives a quick grin to Trace. "Hola amigo. ¿Que Pasa?" He asks as he cracks his knuckles with a flex of his fingers to loosen up the joints. "I fell out of a tree." He says quite proudly.
Pack> Justin says "That was it? So why'd he get all worked up -- oh , wait... duh, he kinda got that PTSD shit going on."
Pack> Felix says "Yeah. It ain't potential to him. I mean, it ain't potential like =maybe= even to us, an' I don't reckon that's what the cougar meant, but. It's real non-potential to him."
Pack> Justin says "We just need to be on point and not give in to fear. So far we've made this Queen our bitch. If she got anything else to throw at us, it better be the kitchen sink."
Pack> Felix says "Well, we ain't gonna have one of our own for a while."
Pack> Justin says "pfff, we'll make it work."
Jamethon nods shallowly to Justin and as the others head off the Fenrir simply cracks his knuckles. The compliment about the fetish does earn an acknowledging grunt, however.
Trace starts after Felix, purposeful strides, and murmurs quietly, "Who the fuck does he think he is, 'potential', /no me joda hijo de mil putas/." It's not entirely directed at either Felix or Justin, now it's just grumbling. "I nearly lost my shit, and it would have been significantly bad," he says, in answer to the 'what's up'.
Felix lights up his cigarette and puts the tin away again as he walks, taking a fair sized first drag off of it and briefly watching the smoke as he exhales. "It wouldn't've been ideal," he agrees, with a brief half-smile. "You know you're supposed to either climb or jump down, right, J? It ain't necessary to plummet."
"I wasn't planning on it." Justin says to Felix in regards to falling out of the tree. "And, well, world is full of possibilities, right? If mage cat can see a potential future and give us the head's up ahead of time, maybe we can do something to tilt it in our favor and manipulate destiny, right? I'd rather a head's up than a surprise party of my guts on the ground. This gives us an edge, right? We can brainstorm and step up now before shit hits the fan, hopefully."
Pack> Felix gives off a feeling that's vaguely reminiscent of a wince. "Careful, ain't sure he's ready for discussin' yet..."
Pack> Justin says "He needs to suck it up and get his head on straight. He's a Fostern, not a baby."
It's not near-frenzy this time, but the residual anger is still there, and fueled by both the speed and force of Rage, Trace turns around and punches Justin in the jaw, and the glare turns onto the other ahroun just a hint shy of challenging. "Fuck. Off."
Pack> Felix says "Don't mean he can't have ten minutes to-- fuck."
There's a glance to Justin and just the hint of a headshake from the Galliard when his packmate starts talking about the recent source of near-frenzy, but it's too late, and there's a sympathetic wince at the impact. "Whoa, hey," he says toward both of them, putting his most persuasive efforts behind it, "All friends here, let's just walk an', I dunno, appreciate nature for a few. Think about what we're gonna snag from Edgewood, maybe."
As soon as the punch lands, Justin blurs into motion on instinct, throwing a haymaker right back into the face of the other ahroun, this time channeling his gift of knocking things down through the impact. He pours his own rage through the attack, his movement is faster than his already agile reflexes, as quick as a cobra strike.
<OOC> To the caern, Justin taps Falling Touch.
Trace goes sprawling and stumbling backwards, landing flat on his back, and doesn't quite get to his feet yet. There's a lowly-voiced growl that follows, that doesn't quite die off, but the older ahroun maintains control for the time being, and glares over at Justin. "Fuck off. Seriously."
Jamethon calls out from the center towards the somewhat distant brawl, "Either make a challenge or take it out of the Caern if you want to have your honorless little squabble."
Felix glances from one Ahroun to the other, then back to the caern as the Get calls after them. He makes a face at the adjective in there. "C'mon, y'all, this ain't what we need," he says, and at least still has all his persuasive gifts and talents on his side in the argument, such as it is, "Plus, Jamethon looked pretty disappointed he didn't get to aim at takin' no-one down, just now. Ain't no call to cheer him up."
Justin spits out a mouth of blood to the side on the ground, then turns and starts off back through the forest with a roll of his shoulders.
Trace brings one hand up to rub at his face, and more specifically his nose, which is showing the effects of being hit, most likely broken judging by the wince that follows. The Walker makes it to standing, looking over and off at the trees before shifting to lupus with a series of low grumbles. He lifts his head to look up at Felix, and there's a hint of apology in the posture. Go after him, he urges. Six-Shooter will be fine, given time.
Pack> Felix says "J. You want company or alone-time?"
Pack> Justin says "I'm cool. I've been hit by girl scouts harder than that."
Pack> Felix laughs. "Well, I didn't reckon you needed an ambulance."
Felix glances after Justin, and there's a brief pause, during which there's just the hint of an upward twitch at one corner of his lips, before he looks back to the Walker again. "Where're you plannin' to hang for a bit? We still got shit to go snag, after all."
Six-Shooter turns his head in a direction different than the one that Justin is going off in, with a bit of a full-body shaking off that follows. He will be around, that way. Or he will find the galliard later.
Pack> Justin says "Tell him we'll still friends. I ain't tripping."
By now, the other Gnawer has headed off into the woods and out of sight, even his footsteps can't be heard crunching over leaves and twigs.
Pack> Felix mentally salutes. "Will do. Still aimin' to come find you, 'less you'd rather not."
Felix squints briefly in the indicated direction, then nods. "A'right," he starts to say, and then pauses; this time the upward twitch is more than a hint, and remains as he informs the Walker, "He wants me to tell you y'all're still friends, he ain't trippin'." Something about the delivery suggests this is essentially a quote.
Six-Shooter lolls his tongue a little bit, and twists an ear forward. Still friends, he affirms. Just... it's not even anger so much anymore as it is irritation that shows in the Walker's manner. He said wrong words, wrong time, wrong manner. It is /real/, not potential. Very, very real. The low growl, this time, is momentary and fleeting.
"Shit yeah, it's real," Felix agrees, with an emphatic nod, and no remaining smile, "Most of us here ain't had to face it quite as..." He pauses, briefly considering his words, "direct, as close up as you, yet, but we know it's real. An' we know, if we don't do nothin', they WILL come. I guess now we know if we don't do nothin', it's Edgewood an' here -- although I reckon we sorta assumed here anyhow -- they'll be comin'. Dependin' what we do with knowin' that, maybe we can take it to them instead, change those futures some... but definitely, no matter what, it's real as fuck. Ain't no maybe there."
The Walker ahroun seems at least calmer than he was a bit earlier, if still also a little bit shaken, and his ears twist in agreement. We will do, Six-Shooter states, with no doubt and no room for give in that statement. Nothing is not an option.
Felix nods. "Ain't even close," he says, and his brow furrows slightly as he takes another drag on his cigarette. "...what I'm wonderin' is whether however he sensed it takes into account the shit we been =talkin'= about doin', tryin' to work out how to do, but ain't actually managed to do yet. 'cause if it does, maybe it ain't the right path. But if it don't... still might be the thing to do." He glances the direction his packmate went, then back to the Walker. "A'right," he says, "I'm gonna go look what he's up to. Find you again in a bit to go save our shit an' cars an' food an' all, yeah? An' the beer. ...wouldn't much mind savin' that right now." He withdraws the bottle from his pocket again instead, and gives Six-Shooter a slight wave with the cigarette in his other hand.
Six-Shooter bobs his head slightly and lopes off into the forest of the bawn, before speeding up to an outright run, apparently to go blow off some steam.
Felix heads off in search of his packmate, in the general direction the other Gnawer was headed. He's back to his usual saunter, now, though definitely keeping more of an eye out than he usually appears to be -- mostly for Justin, but also for anything else.
Having tucked himself away in the woods, Justin is sitting against a tree and is currently chewing on a piece of jerky. At the sign of approaching noise, he tilts his head and gives him a jerk of the head upwards.
"Yo," Felix replies, wandering over and dropping down crosslegged by Justin. He eyes the jerky for a moment before asking, "Got more?"
"I don't know, you gonna punch me in the face if I say there is a possibility that I may have more in my pocket?" Justin says as he fishes out the package and lobs it into his lap.
"Never know, I ain't punched you in the face in days. Might be it's time," Felix muses, setting his drink down in order to pick up the packet and steal some of the sweet, sweet dried meat bounty for himself.
"Yeah, well, I'm not going to let anyone just punch me in the face for stupid reasons. I like the guy and all but I'm not gonna be cool with him putting hands on me for no reason." Justin says as he takes another bite of his food. "I didn't take Fitz's shit and I'm not going to take his either."
Felix hands the package back and leans back a little, munching a bit of the jerky. "Thanks," he adds as a bit of an afterthought. "Well, generally speakin' I ain't in favour of that either. An' I ain't sayin' he was right to, but it also wasn't no reason. Reason was bein' in the middle of tryin' to come back down from fightin' a frenzy, an' gettin' the wrong words at the wrong time. Too close to what set it off in the first place. I mean, shorter, reason's rage." He glances sidelong at the Ahroun, "Thanks for bein' able to walk away." And a sudden if brief grin, "Pretty sure you broke his nose, by the way."
"Yeah, well, I may not be the strongest guy around but I just as hell know how to handle myself. Emma taught me a gift that knocks people down with just a touch. Usually when I hammer my fist into their face while using it gives off a pretty neat effect. More show than anything, but gets the point across." Justin says as he works his wrist about. "He needs to learn some control and focus his anger on the enemy, not his friends. I get that he's mad. My dad is buried out here. We've all lost some shit, but we also gotta try and stay positive or else we'll just lose our minds."
Felix nods, washing the jerky down and offering Justin a drink as well. "He's got some control, or Jamethon woulda got his wish, but, y'know. There's a reason I usually get me away from folks when I feel it nearly go. It ain't like we go 'nope' an' it goes 'oh sorry I'll come back later'. Keeps pushin' at the walls an' lookin' for weak spots to get through before it gives up. 's how it is for me, anyway. An' I ain't got it quite so strong as y'all." He shrugs. "I reckon it's harder when it's fresher. An' all kindsa shit here's gonna bring it up, bein' such a similar fight." The Galliard glances up into the story tree. "Yeah, though, ain't helpin' anythin' when it comes out on friends. ...but the punch with that Gift is awesome. Kinda envious of that one."
Nodding his head, Justin tilts his head upwards to stare into the branches of the trees above them. "Yeah, I reckon it is harder when it's that fresh." He takes in a deep breath of the air. "I'd love to teach you it but it's kinda one of those warrior only things."
Felix is sitting crosslegged on the ground, next to Justin who's got his back against the tree. Both have jerky. Delicious, delicious jerky. Felix takes another sip of his drink and then tucks the bottle in the crook of his knee to focus on jerky and finishing off his cigarette. "Yeah, I suspected it'd be," he replies, with a sigh. "It ain't like we don't get some cool shit too, but it'd sure as hell be nice if some of it was for in fights. Ain't like we get in a lot less'n y'all."
After some time cooling off-- or really, running-- Six-Shooter has done as he said he would, and come after the other. The Glass Walker can be seen at the edge of the clearing, and there is a quiet whuff of greeting offered to the two Bone Gnawers.
"Yeah, you guys get to sing all pretty and sneak into people's dreams. I guess that is pretty cool." Justin says teasingly to him. "You should definitely do some shit like spy on Britney Spears or Paris Hilton. I bet they got some fucked up shit in their dreams." At the sound of the wuff, Justin waves some jerky in his direction. "Yo, you hungry?"
"Ffft, I don't need a Gift to sing all pretty," Felix replies, grinning, "I definitely oughta try an' learn that dream one off Alicia, though." He pauses, chewing his bite of jerky thoughtfully a moment, "...you know she asked me once if I wanted to know what Dre dreams about? That was weird. ...but if I was gonna perv on some famous blonde's dreams I reckon I'd check out Kesha's. Maybe they'd be like her videos." He glances over at the sound of the whuff, and flashes the Walker a grin for his very own. "Hey."
There's a few sniffs, even as Trace is shifting back to homid now that he's gotten here. "Very," he admits, grinning and moving to sit near the others. There's none of the previous intensity that there had been earlier, the anger having been bled off and given time. "I've got to teach things for my chiminage," he notes, idly.
"Yeah, I'd check out Kesha's dreams too, though you know she was all in the media about her manager raping her or whatever and making her sing songs about partying. She may be a boring girl who dyes her hair and hangs out in sweat pants and not all freaky that she appears on TV." Justin throws the pack of jerky to Trace. "Here you go, dude. It's spicy."
Felix pinches out the little that remains of his cigarette and puts that into a pocket; surely one of these days he's going to set something on fire that way. Not yet, apparently. "Well, I reckon if it was all that shit all the time, she wouldn't have any time to work. Nah, though, I reckon she'd be fun." He picks the bottle back up to take a drink -- there's not much left, now, -- and looks to Trace, offering him a sip as well. "Like Gifts?"
Trace grabs the pack of jerky, "Gracias," setting it on one knee after he's pulled a few pieces out. One gets chewed on as he nods. "Gifts, Rites." He's thoughtful for a moment, and continues, "Whet the Blade; Imperium's Shadow; Questing Stone; there's also the Gift that lets you use man-made tools better." There's a slight grin, and Trace reaches up to rub his nose once more, before accepting the sip of the drink. "Justin already knows falling touch, so that's kind of off the table."
"Well, I could probably learn something else. What is this making tools better gift you got? What's it called?" Justin takes another bite of jerky, grinning in amusement at the latter statement but not commenting.
"I don't," Felix says as innocently as he can manage, "...yeah, though, what's that one? An' I know Questin' Stone, an' I've heard of Whet the Blade, but I dunno about Impergium's Shadow..."
Trace grins and nods, turning over another piece of jerky in his hands. "It's got a few names, though the one I hear most is Apecraft's Blessings. Dumb name, right? But you kind of get in touch with the spirit of tool-using, and it makes everything easier. Doesn't matter what it is." He pulls out a half of a cigarette from earlier from his pants pocket, and a lighter from his jacket, and lights it, taking a long drag. "Impergium's Shadow is just that. It..." Trace lets out a breath. "It shows the person the rite is being performed /on/ the days of the Impergium, in a kinda dream. And it has some carry-over into the day after, making us feel... kind of a shadow of the curse and such."
"I want that tool gift." Justin says with a firm nod of his head. "That would help me out a lot about the library and other shit I am tinkering with since I am sorta the builder of the tribe."
"ANY kinda tool?" Felix asks, "I mean, are we definin' tool like, things in a tool box, or like anythin' that helps you do a thing? I mean, I assume, like, a hammer, but... a blender? Or," he considers a moment, "the space shuttle?" He finishes off his share of jerky, then puts the lid back on the Coke bottle and leans back a bit on his hands. The tree's most climbable branch gets eyed, but he doesn't get up as yet. "...but yeah, that rite sounds interestin' too. Kinda dramatic. Hmm."
Trace takes another drag from the cigarette, and blows the smoke upward into the air. "Yeah, pretty much anything, and any definition of 'use' too. Driving a car is using a tool too. But sure, it could work on a blender. I think." He nods. "It's not perhaps pleasant to go through," the Walker says of the rite in question, "but... useful and important, both for people who already know rage all too well, /pero también para/ those who don't feel the pull as strongly to understand what it does to humans."
Nodding his head, Justin rolls to his feet and heads off with a yawn. "Gonna hit the head, which is... a tree. Will be back later guys!"
"Long as it ain't this tree," Felix says after Justin, "...or the one in the caern." He shifts over to steal the freshly vacated seat and the bounty of tree-as-backrest that comes along with it. "Even things like drivin' a car... heh." He shakes his head, weighing things up. "Well. I kinda wanna learn both of those, honestly. ...does the person the rite gets done on hafta want you to do it? Just outta curiosity..."
Trace lifts his shoulder in a shrug. "It would certainly make it easier," he comes up with, "but I don't think it's a requirement. If they don't want to go through with it though, someone would need to hold them down. The rite itself takes time." He purses his lips. "I've gone through it twice myself. Once as a cub-- it was more or less a requirement at that point-- and once as a cliath when I was learning how to perform the rite myself."
"I prolly oughta try it some time," Felix says, "Sounds like an interestin' experience. What'd you think of it? Any different the second time through?" He glances upward, adding, "...you oughta tell me while we go over to raid Edgewood. Don't wanna leave it too long." Bottle into the pocket as he rises to his feet, and he stretches about as far as he gets. "I'll tell J where we went, he can catch up if he wants once he's drained the snake."
Trace pushes to his feet and nods. "It was... different, alright," Trace begins, looking around for a moment to get his bearings in the still unfamiliar woods before tilting his head in approximately the direction of Edgewood, and starting to walk. "At least in some ways, the second time I knew what I was getting into, though." There's a grin. "Let's go save the beer from abandonment," he agrees.