Sweeping branches of evergreen pines form a sort of natural roof overshadowing most of this clearing. In the center is a fire pit with several old logs polished from use for seats. A separate stack of firewood is discreetly piled up at the base of an old spruce, protected from the damp by a tarp. At the edge of the clearing and extending back a bit into the woods resides a rough wooden structure with a slate tile roof. A stone slab rests off to one side of the clearing in a place of some prominence. Nestled in among the pines are a few hardy perennials--red alder, quaking aspen, and a big leaf maple or two--that, come spring, will create a profusion of color in the clearing.
A faint trail leads off to the east, and a bit north.
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 nicely-fitting dark indigo jeans with a plain white tank, its ribbed cotton skimming close enough to hint at the musculature beneath. Over that, he's wearing a long-sleeved, navy blue shirt, unbuttoned; judging by the white-on-red number patches on the left arm, the flag patch on the right shoulder, and the round fleur-de-lis patch to the left of the collar, it was once part of someone's Scout uniform... probably not his. Okay, the 'Boy Scouts of the USA' patch over the right pocket's a hint, too. 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.
Her fur is a dingy black and grey, and her ears are a little too long for a wolf, the fur on them a little too short and fine in comparison to the rest of her head. Small thin folds of bare grey skin stretch noticeably from the back of her forelegs toward her body, and again from the back of her hind legs to her tail; the patagia is minor enough and flexible enough to avoid restricting movement, but impossible to mistake for anything else. Her eyes seem entirely black except when they widen enough to show what little white exists, dark unpleasant pools that do nothing to soften her overall image.
Her build is wiry, with a well defined if compact musculature. Too well defined. Her fur and skin seem to pull unnaturally over her frame when she engages in any real movement, a sensation more subconscious than not, and a close study reveals patterns in what can be seen of her muscles that are a little too perfect, a little too precise. Her teeth and claws gleam brilliantly metallic and deadly sharp, clearly unnatural to any close observer.
Shaggy brown hair and darker brown eyes frames this man's face. Justin has a slightly tanned complexion with a hint of Puerto Rican from his mother's side, Caucasian from his father's. He has a fairly lanky build, but underneath his clothes is a body fitted with new muscle. He wears loose fitted 'destroyed' blue jeans, simple tank tops, and worn down sneakers that are about five months in need of replacement. During the cold, a thick green military jacket from his Grandpa. After a mishap with a monster, he was aged roughly five years forward and now looks like a young man in his early 20's. Now at 6'2, he has finally hit the rest of his growth spurt.
Linnaea is a petite young woman, just under five feet in height when she stands fully straight. Medium-dark hair with auburn and even lighter blond highlights hangs in many small braids that are all gathered into one braid at the moment, with stray hairs and one stray braid that escape to form bangs and frame her face, and hazel brown eyes. Her skin is fair but tanned, with freckles across her cheeks, and features that are not delicate so much as they are strong and simply there.
Today, theurge is wearing a pair of black and silver fishnet tights underneath knee length black denim shorts, and a lightweight black cable pullover sweater with the sleeves rolled up part way. There's a silver chain peeking out from underneath the collar. Her shoes, however, plain black slip-ons, look like they have seen better times.
A young man of average height and athletic build, he is generally seen with a cunning smile and an easy manner. His dark hair is cut short, just enough length that the waves take form. (If he let it grow out, it would probably lead to unruly curls.) His eyes are green, or perhaps hazel, depending on the light. His skin is pale and freckled, and his cheekbones, while not extreme, are prominent. The straight nose and strong chin can lead to a more stern impression, but it's broken easily when he grins.
Today he wears a simple grey hoodie with a Red Sox logo on the front. His denim jeans are, if not new, well cared for, as are the blue and grey tennis shoes beneath. Around his neck, visible against the grey of the sweatshirt, he wears a pendant of carved, black stone strung on a thin cord of braided leather.
Stocky and large, the gray wolf is among the heavier of his kind. His muzzle is brutish and short, placed among unforgiving features. His coat is overly thick, bearing winter's thickness in the heat of summer, and appears not of a piece, but to have been assembled in a patchwork fashion, with scars joining the patchwork. His right leg is mangled, missing much of its muscle, and heavily scarred, but still able to bear his weight.
Thane isn't a man who's appearance stands out much. He's caucasian of skin tone with a faint swarthiness should he stay out in the sun long enough to catch a tan. His bones are pronounced, giving him the appearance of leanness despite having a solid, even musculature that speaks of someone who's gained his athleticism through rounded activity versus focused weight training. His hair is a tawny brown in most lights and usually kept in a short style. Often, there's a good day's growth of beard on his face which seems to hide small nicks and old scars. His eyes are a mid-tone blue, often held under pensive brows.
There is a look to him, the weight of something undefined. It's like looking into the eyes of a man who has seen terrible things and was never quite was the same after. It's even more haunting considering his blind right eye is couched in scars like an attack from a bear.
Usually, he's casually dressed but cleans up when the need calls. He's never seen among the normal public in anything but long sleeves regardless of the weather, underneath showing massive scarring on on his forearms. They don't seem to restrict movement, but the oddly darkened scars are numerous like lightning bolts across his skin. Another deep slice runs at the upper portion of his abdomen.
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.
Pack> Justin says "Yo. Moooot time."
Pack> Felix says "That it is."
The red of the setting sun only seems to serve as a punctuation on the increasingly agitated air of the sept. Though the moon is half the Alpha is looking as tense as he may be on the full, for all his anger seems tightly reined in. He waits near the fire with his eye fixed on the trees.
Pack> Trace says "Yeah. I'll be there soon, I'm a bit away still."
Pack> Justin says "I don't even have anything to talk about tonight."
Linnaea comes into the clearing from the forest, humming off-key to herself. There is a nod to Thane, and then the Gaian moves to take a seat near a tree at the edge of the clearing.
Pack> Trace says "There won't be any fireworks tonight, sorry."
Felix is here, half-sprawled on one of the logs by the firepit, sipping from a Coke bottle and looking a little bit tired, all in all, while he waits for everyone else to arrive. He hasn't been here that long, today, but he's on time.
Pack> Felix says "Well, maybe you can make it up to us later."
A desparkled Snakepatcher paces into the clearing, after making several tours around the clearing with much inspection and sniffing for anything out of the ordinary. He continues his inspection on the nearest Garou to hand, Felix, notices the next Garou over is Thane, defers any further inspection and instead greets the Alpha carefully and politely, then finds a place to be.
Thane returns the nod given by Linnaea and regards Snakepatcher's aborted inspection with a raise of his unscarred brow. After several minutes pass in which no one else arrives or sounds to be arriving, the Lord clears his throat and looks to the few gathered faces. "A small turnout, it seems, but with the business at Edgewood others may be slow to make it from the long way around. So, let's get started. Firstly, some news since two faces aren't here: Slug succeeded in his Adren challenge to Dakota. Apparently it was a test involving proving both Glory, Honor, and Wisdom. So if you see him, keep his new rank in mind. Now, do we have an update on our other challenge?" He asks and looks to Felix when he asks.
Six-Shooter nearly slinks his way into the clearing and over towards his packmate, but his steps make far too much noise for any attempt at sneaking to be successful. There is a chuff of greeting, and then the Glass Walker gets onto the log. Patrol was uneventful, he adds, somewhat grumpily.
Heading through the woods is Justin at a quick jog. As he spies his two packmates, he lifts a hand and waves, then joins them with an unceremonial flopping down next to them.
Linnaea sits up a little bit straighter at the beginning of the moot, and folds her hands in her lap before looking from Thane, and over to Felix.
Ghost-in-the-Machine arrives in lupus, a pretty uncharacteristic choice for her. The reason for this is obvious at immediate glance; visible patagia, slightly too thin fur on slightly too long ears, and teeth and claws that are clearly some kind of metal rather than anything natural. There's a prickle to the black and dingy grey fur, especially along her ruff and spine, which suggests her mood isn't the greatest to begin with today.
Felix gives Snakepatcher a quick grin when the Uktena arrives, and watches him inspect the area; the inspection of himself gets a breath of a laugh, and no objection. There's grins for the others as they arrive as well, and a brief ruffle for the Walker, before he nods to Thane's question and gets to his feet. "Yup," he answers, and turns to face his challenger, putting on a serious mien and tone. "Good afternoon, Miss Griffin-Macey," he greets her, with a small inclination of his head, "Your mission, should you choose to accept it, involves turnin' your focus, talent, an' efforts toward the Sept. You may select any three team members, but it is essential that one of 'em knows the Rite of Bindin', an' will teach you it. Once they have, that member's part is done. You will teach the Rite yourself to one of the other members. Then, you will lead that member an' the remaining member in workin' together to create a total of six talens. What they are is up to you; they can be the same kind or some kinda assortment, but they should specifically be shit that, after some serious thinkin', you think'll be useful to the Sept against our current enemies. As always, should any member of your team be caught or killed, this Galliard will disavow all knowledge of your actions. This challenge will self-destruct in about a month, so you better get it done by next half-moon moot. But earlier's fine. Good luck, Lin." He gives her a solemn nod, getting a good second or so more before a twitch at the corner of his mouth starts threatening the return of the grin.
Linnaea grins a bit, and tilts her head up to listen to Felix, intently. There's a few nods, and she seems to be taking mental notes. "Got it," she agrees, with one more nod following her words. "Guess I'd better get to work ASAP after everything here's done. It's gonna be great."
Justin flashes a grin to his packmate and his terms. "Huh. Sounds pretty straight forward." He says as he kicks back against the log and crosses one leg over the other.
"A good challenge." Thane says, short and sweet and sounding like his surly self. "And certainly skills expected of a second rank Theurge. Good luck." He looks over the remaining. "Does anyone else have any challenges they'd like to issue? Or anything else they'd like to bring up that is a concern?"
The Galliard's grin does escape then, and Felix sweeps a bow toward Linnaea before reclaiming his previous seat on the log and sprawling comfortably between his packmates again.
Ghost-in-the-Machine settles into a spot by herself, and her slightly too long ears quirk up to listen.
Six-Shooter twists one ear, and then sets his head back down on his forepaws. He doesn't seem to have anything to add at the moment, though.
"No?" Thane murmurs as he regards the small crowd. "Well, little on my end. The Spirals at Edgewood are definitely of the Queen and digging in. Rough plans right now are that one group will move on the Tower. Another will remain behind to keep the Edgewood group occupied and away from the caern, because it's likely they'd make a move while we're split. So expect soon that we'll be setting a night to make our move."
Linnaea is drumming her fingers on her knee and then counting on them for a moment, and looking somewhat into the distance more than paying attention to the here/now.
Ghost-in-the-Machine rumbles, noting that she took the ~gun~ she mentioned and has it now. It is heavy and will need time to prepare but she can use it.
It's a relatively small gathering today; Thane's in his usual position for these moots, and most of Tactical Frivolity is sitting on the logs by the firepit while others are dotted elsewhere around the clearing. There are no signs of glitter nor any other unusual clearing-attributes today. "Cool," Felix says to Ghost's gun-report, giving her a grin. Thane's update on the situation at Edgewood, and the current rough plan, gets a more thoughtful look.
Snakepatcher attentively listens to the challenge details and to the update on Edgewood.
Nolan's whistling is softer than usual, cutting off when he arrives at the clearing. He looks around the gathering, nodding to Ghost and then giving his focus to the Shadow Lord.
"Good to hear." Thane says towards Ghost, though he takes a fleeting note of Nolan's arrival. "Any difficulties or anything you need, Ghost?"
Ghost-in-the-Machine's ears twist back; she seems uncertain, but she does respond after a moment. No. She will work on repaying the person she took it from.
Thane gives a single nod of his head towards the Metis before shifting his view on the gathering as a whole. "I have no other business at the moment. If no one else has anything, then the rest of the evening is your's. I know Lin there has a challenge to get started."
Nolan gives a jerk of his head in the direction of the caern. "That kid-Adren, Salem, tasked me with putting together a plan for a feint at Edgewood."
Linnaea grins a little and pushes to her feet, with a wave towards those gathered, before she pulls out her cell phone and slips off into the woods. Not staying to socialise when there's work to be done, it seems.
Thane shows the faintest hint of a frown at Nolan's words but nods. "He hadn't told me that. Given the talk the other day though, that seemed to be the general idea. Keep me in the loop of what the plans are and who you want to rope in. Speaking of, if business is tended to for the minute I'm going to go do some patrolling of the western edge to make sure they're not moving in closer. So come find me if you need me."
Felix can't help looking amused at the description of Salem, though he hides most of it behind taking a drink, for the moment. Linnaea's exit gets a glance and a chin-lift of farewell, but he doesn't seem inclined to take his own leave yet, watching to see Thane's reply to Nolan.
Nolan tips his chin to look sidelong at Thane for a moment, and then nods. "I need to ask the Mage about some things, and then I'll give the plans to Salem. Not particularly complicated."
"Complicated or not," Thane says to the Fianna with a frown, "As Warder and Alpha, I need to be kept up on plans that are being made, be it from you or Salem. I'm fine on others working on angles, just /someone/ needs to tell me what the hell they're doing so I'm not wasting energy and time dealing with something someone else is or make plans that'll screw up another set. It's a pretty simple request. With that being said, I need to get back to work. Good evening, all of you." And that said, the Ahroun moves to take his leave.
Six-Shooter twists his ear and looks at the Warder departing, and gets to his feet and leaps off the log, landing neatly. He also has a patrol to get back to, he adds, head twisting towards the north as he moves to depart.
Pack> Six-Shooter is going to go patrol the north, near the border. Will be back later.
Pack> Felix says "Sounds good. Might find you in a bit, dependin'."
Pack> Six-Shooter gives the mental equivalent of a grin.