Werewolf: Appalachian Moonrise, Ch 1

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#101

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Breathes-the-Winds had gotten up quickly, switching almost on an instinct to his Lupus form to better hear where the noise had come from. When he figured out it was just the morning wake-up he shook his head, sharing Alex's sentiments.

The Lupus swiftly transformed into a human shape and he looked over at Alexander. "Smells like it is, among other things too." With that the Metis followed after the Shadowlord.
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#102

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The massive clattering racket barely stirred Sophie from her slumber, for she had literally only gotten to sleep several hours before. The place was swarming with smells and sounds she did not recognize, and while she hadn't anticipated that being a problem (if she could sleep through server noise or traffic, she could sleep through everything), as it turned out the owls, bugs, and Gaia-knew-what else had kept her up half the night tossing and turning. By the time she finally fell asleep, it would have taken an artillery barrage to wake her in the manner Arianne was.

Slowly, she managed to wake up, dimly perceiving the clanging noise in the chimney. It took her several minutes, despite the smell of food, to stir herself and dress, before stumbling out the door of the cavern, looking half-dead, desperately seeking coffee or something else that might wake her up.

Even in her sleep-deprived state however, she had remembered to pack all her equipment with her. No use having one of these tech-addled country-wolves mistake her laptop for firewood...
Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair...

Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."
Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."
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#103

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The sun was still fighting to break through the fog over the mountains, occassionally peering out as a dim flat disk behind the luminescent clouds. Tendrils of fog still wisped over the dewy grass, some of them weaving around SeesFaces as the spirit felt the young Theurge pass. Birds sang out everywhere; rock doves cooed, jaybirds scolded, cardinals chirped, wrens warbled, and a mockingbird launched into an epic composition that lasted for five minutes and never repeated a note the same way twice. It even barked at one point.

Breakfast was laid out buffet-style on a picnic table outside Hattie's cabin. China serving bowls were piled high with pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, fried apples, biscuits and included a gravy bowl of brown sausage gravy. Another bowl held a mass of white grainy pudding-like substance that those from South of the MasonDixon line would identify immediately as hominy grits. Mason jars of preserves, jams, and jellies sat next to a large lump of fresh butter. Two urns sat on the table, one marked "Water" the other presumably coffee, while a tea set of sugar and creamer pitchers sat nearby. Carafes of orange juice and milk were also there, beside juice glasses and ceramic mugs. Everything here was recycleable in the old-fashioned sense of you wash it yourself. Nothing throw-away, even the utensils were metal flatware that had a look of familar use to them.

A few other early risers, some with bandages and signs of recent battle, filled their plates and then sat down at one of the picnic tables. It was clear they sat with their pack alone. Galileo was sitting by himself at a table, his plate piled high with breakfast. He grinned and gave the youngsters a wave as they staggered over to the table. "Ya'll eat up, before it's gone."

That got everyone's attention, and the young ones were instantly the center of attention. The eyes seemed to follow the Shadowlord the most, watching him (or the scroll-tube on his back) warily. An older woman, her red hair streaked with grey where it pulled back in a bun, looked them up and down as they approached. "Ain't none of ya'll warshed up, did ya," Hattie Thunderwife groused. "There's th' spiget, warsh yer hands afore ya eat at least," she ordered in a no-nonsense motherly tone, her head jerking to the right pointing to a spindy pipe emerging from a cement pad. A faucet tap welded to the top would send out a splashing stream of icy water, and a drying towel hung from the pipe.
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#104

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Along the path up to the wonderful smells of Breakfast, Sees-Faces-In-Stars felt the spirits playing in the fog, and leapt around with them for a bit, before giving them his blessings, and moving on toward Breakfast once more.

Trotting up to the Breakfast Table, the young wolf stopped at the faucet before Hattie could glare in his direction. Turning it on with a paw, he briskly rinsed his teeth and clapped his paws clean, wiping them on the grass before shaking himself off, away from the others.

With that done, he trotted up to Hattie, giving her an imploring look. "May I have breakfast plate, Hattie?," he asked politely, with only a small note of eagerness. His mouth was watering at the wonderful smells nearby, and he could almost taste the Sausage, Eggs, and other delightful morsels of food.
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#105

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Sophie was way too tired to argue with the matronly woman who commanded that they wash their hands before eating. She ran her hands under the flow of water, and then, after only a bare second's hesitation, splashed some on her face, hoping to wake herself up.

It worked.

She dried her face and hands off with the towel, and turned back to the business at hand. There was a massive amount of food on display, and for once it was the sort that Sophie could at least recognize as food. Human food. Southern of course, but at least she knew what it was. And having eaten only sparingly yesterday, she found she was very hungry. Accordingly, she piled her plate higher than she normally would have with the various things on offer (including a few bits of the ones she didn't recognize), and dug in, taking care to ensure that she got nothing spilled on any of her equipment. Computer spirits didn't appreciate sausage gravy...
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Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."
Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."
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#106

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"Thank you," said Alexander as he inclined his head to Hattie and walked over to the spigot, washing his hands thoroughly before returning to the breakfast table. "A beautiful morning, isn't it?" he said to Hattie.
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#107

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Breathes-the-Winds stopped and looked at Hattie. "Yes ma'am." The young Metis answered quickly and with some reverence. He went to the spigot and washed his hands thoroughly, being certain to get everything he could before he returned to the table and grabbed a plate.

"Man, this looks even better than what you usually put out. What's the special occasion?" Breathes-the-Winds looked up at Hattie and grinned, though there was a more ominous question lurking behind the Metis' eyes.
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#108

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Arianne quickly washes her hands and dries them. She grins and exclaims, "GRITS!" She piles a plate with food, including a bowl of grits with cream, butter and sugar, one of biscuits and gravy, and then potatoes, eggs, sausage and toast.

"Thank you, Hattie! It looks wonderful!" She smiles at her before settling down at the family-style table and digs in.
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#109

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With that done, he trotted up to Hattie, giving her an imploring look. "May I have breakfast plate, Hattie?," SeesFaces asked politely, with only a small note of eagerness. His mouth was watering at the wonderful smells nearby, and he could almost taste the Sausage, Eggs, and other delightful morsels of food.
The large mountain woman grinned down at the lupus, "Yes, you may," she answered, piling a well-worn, tooth-marked bowl with eggs, bacon, sausage, and then a large dollop of gravy over top before bending down to his level so he could take it in his teeth and walk off. Obviously, he wasn't the first to want his breakfast in lupus. The smell of the good food literally under his nose was distracting.

"Here, I've saved ya'll a table," Galileo offered, still grinning at his trick to get them up earlier. "Eat, then we'll get the Jeep and ya'll can get on the road." He looked down at SeesFaces. "You will have to be homid to go into town, you know."
Accordingly, Sophie piled her plate higher than she normally would have with the various things on offer (including a few bits of the ones she didn't recognize), and dug in, taking care to ensure that she got nothing spilled on any of her equipment. Computer spirits didn't appreciate sausage gravy...
Hattie said not a word, although she eyes the computer and other hi-tech gadgets disparingly. It seemed to mollify her a little that Sophie showed a large appetite. "Eat up now," she encouraged. "Try some butter on th' grits."
"Thank you," said Alexander as he inclined his head to Hattie and walked over to the spigot, washing his hands thoroughly before returning to the breakfast table. "A beautiful morning, isn't it?" he said to Hattie.
"It is at that," the Elder agreed, "Might be hot later on, so you'll not need th' jacket ance the fog burns off." She said nothing about the case on his back, but again seemed to be mollified by his good appetite. Some women just like to see people eating well, and the Child of Gaia was no different.
"Man, this looks even better than what you usually put out. What's the special occasion?" Breathes-the-Winds looked up at Hattie and grinned, though there was a more ominous question lurking behind the Metis' eyes.
Hattie eyed the metis as he once again spoke out of his own fears. "John's pack found a Bane hidin' in a dump site," she told him, referring to a place where locals often threw old furniture, appliances, cars, and other trash over a hill. Often these dumping grounds became Wyrm-tainted, and some could even influence nearby humans to add more to the trash pile. Sometimes, the humans became corrupted into Fomori, protecting and worshipping the Bane. "We'll be singin' 'bout it at th' next Moot." Since there was a feast, it was obvious the Garou had won... but the bandages on the other pack said it wasn't an easy victory.
Arianne quickly washes her hands and dries them. She grins and exclaims, "GRITS!" She piles a plate with food, including a bowl of grits with cream, butter and sugar, one of biscuits and gravy, and then potatoes, eggs, sausage and toast.
"Thank you, Hattie! It looks wonderful!" She smiles at her before settling down at the family-style table and digs in.
Again, Hattie had to smile at the praise her food was given. Cooking was one of her few joys anymore. "I swear you come from Berea jis' ta eat, missy," she teased.
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#110

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Arianne winked at Hattie. "You know it - dorm food's enough to make a Garou become a vegetarian!"

She took a swig of milk before continuing. "An' yer food reminds me of home, Hattie - just better!"
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#111

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Pancakes, eggs, sausage, and bacon went onto Alexander's plate. A large glass of orange juice joined it. Alexander was a couple inches over six feet and been hiking after he had had diner. It had left him with an appetite suitable for a large breakfast.
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#112

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The look on Breathes-the-Winds face was disappointment that instead of the glory of fighting a bane he had been asked to retrieve an item. But the look passed and the Metis began to pile food up on his plate.
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#113

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LadyTevar wrote:The large mountain woman grinned down at the lupus, "Yes, you may," she answered, piling a well-worn, tooth-marked bowl with eggs, bacon, sausage, and then a large dollop of gravy over top before bending down to his level so he could take it in his teeth and walk off. Obviously, he wasn't the first to want his breakfast in lupus. The smell of the good food literally under his nose was distracting.
Grabbing the lupus-bowl (they called it a "dog bowl," but he wasn't), Sees-Faces-In-Stars trotted a short distance before beginning to eat everything, down to the last crumb, within the bowl.
LadyTevar wrote:"Here, I've saved ya'll a table," Galileo offered, still grinning at his trick to get them up earlier. "Eat, then we'll get the Jeep and ya'll can get on the road." He looked down at SeesFaces. "You will have to be homid to go into town, you know."
This caused Sees-Faces-In-Stars to stop chewing and freeze for a moment, gravy on the tip of his ear, a speck of egg above one eye, and a small particle of sausage atop his nose. He looked imploringly at Galileo, but looked crestfallen at the smirk on Galileo's face. Growling forlornly, he finished eating out of his bowl with less enthusiasm as before, washing his face when he finished.

He walked back to the cabin he'd slept in, and changed alone into his homid form, still wearing the woven clothing homids used in place of proper fur. He sighed before walking out. A young, eighteen-year-old-looking young man walked out of the cabin, wearing a black t-shirt with a cartoon figure that looked somewhat like a crinos-form Garou saying the slogan "I hope you're neutered", worn underneath a dark green long-sleeved collared shirt. His dark brown hair had strange, regular but thin grey streaks, but that only seemed to suit his eyes. He wore somewhat loose-fitting blue jeans over paratrooper boots. He trudged up the path, walking unhurriedly. When he reached the top of the hill, he sat down at the table with the other new "cubs," nearby to Galileo. He turned to look at Galileo, and asked as poignant a question as he could, though in English this time instead of the Garou tongue. "Why?"

(EDIT: Clarified t-shirt)
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#114

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"Because you don't take dogs into university buildings unless it's the vet center or they're seeing eye dogs," said Alexander. "And that's if you can pass as a dog." He took a swig of orange juice. "Learn the rules of the homid world pup."
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#115

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Sophie had been occupying herself with eating. She didn't know or want to know what was in this stuff, but it was excellent, whatever it was. She willingly took the suggestion regarding the butter on the 'grits' (she'd heard of those, but had never seen them), and was busy devouring a helping of them when Sees-Faces asked his question, and the Shadowlord answered it.

Despite being about as far from Lupus-mindset as one could get without being a Homid herself, Sophie frowned at this answer. It was all well and good for a Homid to insist that everyone else adopt their form for everything, but given that her natural form was the sort of thing that would get her shot at by the Department of Fish & Game, she had some sympathy for the Lupus. Not that the Shadowlord was wrong, but his attitude seemed so... cavalier... as if everyone else was at fault for not understanding the rules of his world. She doubted seriously that he knew how to debug an operating system, but you didn't hear her mocking him about that, now did you? Plus the Lupus sounded so... plaintive... about the prospect, that Sophie found herself speaking up.

"Most humans couldn't tell a wolf from a Husky," she ventured, before she had time to consider if this was a good idea or not. "And even if they could, nobody likes getting forced out of their element. Not all of us are 'lucky' enough," she loaded the word with irony, "to blend in so well naturally."

She downed a gulp of coffee, black, and stronger than she was used to.

"Besides, there's about nine hundred different homid worlds, and they each have their own rules. I doubt you know them all." Not that she did either, but that was beside the point. It was a bit odd for her, Glasswalker and Homid-minded as she was, to be defending a Lupus Theurge's ignorance of human custom, but there was something about the way the Shadowlord put his criticism that didn't stick well with her.
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#116

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Galileo had been about to make a joke of his own before the ShadowLord broke in. The Ragabash raised one eyebrow at the young Ahroun, only to be pleasantly surprised by the Glasswalker speaking up to defend SeesFaces.

Without a word, he picked up his coffee and took a sip. He knew that Alexander had gone to bed early, but the rest of them had stayed up. Hattie had mentioned a deer carcass in the freezer when she got up, so Galileo was pretty sure what they'd done. It would be interesting to see if the ShadowLord could make up for that lost time and fit into the pack.

As he watched and listened, Hattie made herself a plate and sat with the other pack, getting the full report on what had happened with the trash dump. Arianne's praise of her food had made her day, and the young ShadowLord showed that someone had taught him good manners. She was beginning to think the crazy Stargazer knew what he was doing after all.

Still... there was that GrandKlaive. Her eyes slid briefly over to the scroll case on the ShadowLord's back. That was going to be trouble... she could feel it in her bones.
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#117

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Arianne shrugs. "You could go in Lupus," she says with an evil grin, "but Berea has a leash law. You'd have to wear a collar and leash, someone would have to carry the pooper-scooper... and as Alexander pointed out, you couldn't go into the building to Professor Childe's office. Either one of us would have to stay with you, or we'd have to tie you up to something while we're in there."

She takes a sip of her coffee and raises an eyebrow. "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." she pointed out. "In the woods, we can be wolves. In the city, we must be Homids - or at least -try- to blend in."

"By the way," she adds with a grin, "I like your shirt."
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#118

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Though he didn't expect so many answers to his question, Sees-Faces-In-Stars had no trouble keeping track, despite using the dull homid senses. He patiently waited for the others to finish talking, carefully considering each of their words.

When he spoke, his voice had a cadence to his English words, a cadence definitely reminiscent of how Theurges chant. "I'd guessed why, but I didn't know I'd need so many...things to go out in the world of men when I wear the wolf. And you're right Arianne - learning more, even about the world of men is no bad thing," he paused, before remembering what some of the homid Garou had taught him about talking in English. "Thank you, I like the short too," he added.

With that said, he looked at Alexander for a moment before speaking. "You know too much about the world of men and not enough about the other worlds, if you think like that, Alexander. Is that why you are here?"
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#119

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Alexander turned on Sophie. "Nine hundred distant worlds. In New York, know the ways of New York. In Appalachia know the ways of Appalachia. Those I am still learning, but they are still a part of America and I do know American ways as I know the ways of wolves. You are a Glasswalker. The knowledge of men and there ways is one of your tribe's greatest strengths and here you are defending ignorance. Your parents shamed themselves when they broke the Litany, but yourself now."

He turned to Sees-Faces-In--Stars. "Worthless prattle. Ignorance is weakness, knowledge strength. Willful ignorance of the land and it's creatures around you is stupidity and weakness combined. You know nothing of the way of wolves is you do not know that."
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#120

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Breathes-the-Winds growled softly at Alexander's mentioning of Sophie's heritage. "Watch your words, weaver of lies." The Garou in homid form took a sip from his coffee. "You do no help to us by shameless insults with only the barest hint of advice. So keep your trap shut unless you have something important to say and let us all go back to our meals."
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#121

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Looking again at Alexander for a few moments, Sees-Faces-In-Stars looked thoughtful. "You talk much about others' flaws. Yours is pride."

With that, he got a glass of orange juice.
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#122

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Alexander stared at Breathes-the-Wind. "Don't presume to give me orders mule."
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#123

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"Enough!" Arianne snapped into the air. Then leaned forward earnestly.

"Shadowlord, know this: each of us has their own skills, their own triumphs, their own battles. Before you would belittle another, look inside your own soul for the dark places." She gestures to Galileo.

"You insult our host by trying to pick a fight over a pleasant meal; in -any- world that is rude. Insulting those whom he has chosen to work with you is beyond rude."

She instinctively rose to her feet, her teeth bared. "If you find this company beneath you, I suggest you find another path to follow."
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#124

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"Since you know jack shit about the Glasswalkers, Shadowlord, I think I'll be the judge of whether or not I'm shaming myself."

Sophie didn't even bother to look up at the Shadowlord, didn't raise her voice, didn't put her fork down, didn't indicate at all that she was doing anything besides having a quiet conversation abut the weather. Only after she had finished her grits did she belatedly turn her eye on the object of her scorn, raising an eyebrow with an expression of boredom as he predictably snapped at the other Metis.

"Or what?" she asked. "Don't presume to give you orders, or what? You'll whine? You'll go back to your cabin and cry about it? You'll tell us about how we're all gonna regret it because you've got a big sword, and because your parents weren't werewolves? Or because you're a big scary Shadowlord?"

She smiled sweetly at the larger Homid before turning back to her food.

"I'm gonna 'presume' to give you orders right now. My orders are for you to shut the hell up or go away, because you're boring me, and I'm trying to eat. And if you're not clever enough to think of something better than 'mule' to call us, then you're not worth my time to talk to. A real Shadowlord would do better than that."

She smirked a bit under her glasses.

"I wonder if that's why they sent you all the way out here..."
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#125

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Galileo sat back and let the pups argue. It was entertaining to see them gang up on the 'outsider' already. The hunt bonded the four of them together, and the Shadowlord was doing a great job pissing them off and binding them tighter.

Obviously, StormWalker didn't understand Appalachian views of famiy and clan. Heart of Steel, Breathes the Winds, and Sees Faces had already taken the young Glasswalker under their wing, adopting her as family. They might pick on her, but Gaia help anyone else who tried.

However, the Glasswalker wasn't without her own protection, keeping her cool as she calmly refuted the Shadowlord, not even raising her voice. That took skill, a useful one in a Philodox. Galileo took another sip of his coffee to hide his smirk. This was getting good.

And like all good things, was interrupted.

"Galileo! Phone!" came a voice, and with a small sigh the Elder got up to go to the only land-line in the Garou campground.
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