Log edited with Logedit 2.6.6pl on Sun Aug 2 15:29:09 EDT 1998

Using configuration file /turquoise/homes/ammer/.logeditrc
Editing out: arrive/left ANSI tf-messages
Regexp stripping: Queue, Semaphore, ^Huh\? +Type, ^I don't see that
Word-wrapping at 72, 0, 2
Statistics at end of log
-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun climbs to its highest point, preceded by the town crier that
gathers the villagers to the center. This isn't the first time that
Cinabar has performed such a service, but in the last generation she has
never named the spirit troubling the victim as one of the dreaded wolf
spirits. Men and women alike are ill at ease as they gather around the
town center, where Cinabar waits next to a blazing fire.

In the storage shed, Adam doesn't hear a sound. He huddles further into
the shadowed corner, calming down a little, working the events of the last
two hours in his mind.

Lawrence approaches the town center with no small amount of hesitation
and, perhaps, disgruntlement. He walks arm-in-arm with his wife despite
his stormy mood, but stops at the edge of the crowd rather than
comingling.

Cinabar raises her stick-thin arms into the air. Her voice quavers with
age, and the first words are lost to those on the edges until the hum of
voices settles down. "....to submit to the purge. He may not be the only
one so troubled. Other villagers may move to protect him, if a wolf sleeps
within them!" The old woman looks around the town center, where people
avoid each others' eyes and shift from foot to foot. "You must watch for
these! Watch so the wolf may not attack!"

Annabelle shrinks against her husband at the old woman's biting words.

Lawrence exhales a breath and turns towards his wife. He kisses her
lightly on the forehead before drawing away from her slightly. "In case
anything should happen," he murmurs to her, beneath the din of the crowd,
"I want you to be ready to run home."

What's happening, Adam thinks. To me, and now, and the town. His mind
reels, memories of his own face telling him things. Work for peace...the
tribe...it's what we do. The boy moves into the center of the shed, calmly
blinking in the darkness.

Cinabar goes around the inside of the circle and hands them each a sprig
of wolfsbane. A couple look like they'd rather drop the plant, but she
gives them no choice. Her robe flutters in the spring breeze as she moves.
Only when this is done does she take her place next to the fire. She
commands the potter, "Bring the boy!" Petre, Adam's father, makes an
anguished noise in his chest and clenches his fists. Annabelle nods very
slightly at Lawrence, her breath coming quick and fast.

Losing his dazed state of mind quickly, Adam is half-pushed, half-walked
to the huge fire in the town's center. His eyes scan the crowd, catching
his father's, and flashing him a pleading expression.

Lawrence waits, unmoving, still at the edge of the crowd. He remains
silent, his whole body tense in reaction to the goings-on towards the
fire.

Petre fixes his dark eyes on his child now, surrounded on all sides by the
men of the village. He says nothing, but his face is a testament of worry
and love. When Adam has finally reaches the fire, Cinabar shrugs off her
robe. Her wrinkled, sagging body is decorated with symbols that all of the
villages recognizes as warding signs. Those holding the wolfsbane grip
their plants harder. "Kneel," she tells Adam.

The crowd's eyes fix on him, and Adam walks, slowly, to stand before the
crone. He remembers, still, the visions in the shed, his father's eyes,
and in that moment stops in hesistation, uncertainty crossing his
features.

Cinabar is unyielding. "Kneel, to save your soul from the wolf."

Adam is still uncertain. He stands there, not moving.

Lawrence closes his eyes for a moment, perhaps measuring whether
intervention at this point would be an act of moral courage or just one of
foolhardy idealism. The internal struggle is reflected in his expression.

Cinabar locks her gaze on Adam. "Kneel," she commands a third time. "Or
has the wolf already taken you past reclaiming?"

Annabelle keeps her tight grip on Lawrence's arm.

"No one knows," Adam finally replies, "especially me. You're asking
me...to do this, when there aren't any answers. Why?"

Lawrence apparently finally reaches a decision, for he shakes his arm free
of Annabelle's grip. "Go home now," he tells her, quietly but with an
overriding urgency. "Don't argue with me, this once. Go home, and remember
that I love you." With that he turns away from her, and takes one step
forward -- not enough to make any serious movement towards the center, but
enough to separate himself from the woman at his side in the eyes of those
nearby. From the back of the gathering, he bellows, at the top of his
lungs and with all the authority he can muster, "Enough of this!"

Cinabar draws herself up to answer Adam, but Lawrence's challenge
distracts her. Her harshly-angled face whips toward the voice. "Who
speaks?" Annabelle gasps, going pale under her deep tan. She takes a
stumbling step or two backwards.

Adam wheels on hsi feet, turning to face the sudden speaker.

"I do," Lawrence answers, attempting to maintain that air of authority, to
keep his thumb on the pulse of the mob. "And I say we are fools to
tolerate this. I say we are fools to let this woman -- this woman who
fills our heads with nonsense about a tradition of decorating our doors
with the blood of animals that could be better used to feed us, who tells
us this will save us from the creatures that haunt the woods and the
fields when, in fact, it has done nothing of the kind for as long any of
us can remember -- I say we are fools to let this go on. I say we are
better off taking our chances with whatever is wrong with the boy -- he is
a good boy, raised by a good man -- than we are letting the crone have her
way with him."

Cinabar reacts to the threat like a striking snake, pointing at Lawrence.
Her sagging breasts swing grotesquely with the movement. "Corrupt," she
howls. "Another corrupt with the wolf spirits that preyed on our dreams
last night!" The men near Lawrence pull back from him in confusement and
horror. One grabs his wife Annabelle and manhandles her a few more steps
backwards. She begins to sob, shaking her head in denial.

"Stop," Adam says. "She's innocent! Him too!" He yells, moving towards
Annabelle.

"You accuse *me* of corruption?" Lawrence bellows. "I have lived among you
all my life. You know me. You know how hard I work to help feed us all."
He turns in a slow circle, allowing his gaze to touch all of those around
him. "Do I speak with the voice of corruption when I say only that our
faith in this so-called 'wise woman' is misplaced? When she has done
nothing to spare our village from the evil that haunts us, and so we
should look elsewhere?"

Too far, too fast. Some of the villagers react with the horror of the
pious, others with the fear of a curse, and yet others from respect of
Cinabar's position as one that has healed the sick and driven spirits from
the living. "Death," Cinabar howls. "Death to them both. Drive them from
the village!" Petre cries out in protest, but several men restrain him
when he lunges toward Adam. Four more carrying the protective herb advance
on Adam. Those around Lawrence take a couple of steps forward, but
hesitate on the brink. The man holding Annabelle begins to drag her away,
and her cries become louder.

Adam's mad dash carries him towards Lawrence, as Annabelle is dragged
away. He stops in front of the farmer. "Run," he gasps. "Don't let them
take you."

Lawrence turns, slowly, to glare at the man holding Annabelle. "Is this
what we've become?" he demands, still shouting. "Is this how far we've
fallen? Are we so deep in the grip of the fear that stalks us that we turn
on each other like animals at the word of one who promises protection but
delivers nothing? Are we Cinabar's slaves? Or can we think for ourselves?"
He lowers his voice, then -- his next words are directed at the man who
holds his wife, and no other. "If you don't let her go right now," he
promises, "I'll kill you."

The man looks into Lawrence's face. His hands loosen and Annabelle
wrenches free. The ones protected by herbs follow Adam, more slowly. Petre
is being pulled away from the end where Adam runs. Five or six young men
are running toward buildings right off the town center.

Lawrence keeps his hands at his sides, ready to fight if need be, but not
making any overtly threatening gestures otherwise. He doesn't look
inclined to flee, but rather to stay and talk this through.

Adam stops at Lawrence's side, turning an angry glare to the men who were
just holding Annabelle. he turns back to the men bearing the wolvesbane,
regarding them for a moment.

Cinabar begins to stalk after the men that are closing on Adam and
Lawrence. Her body moves with jerky stiffness as she pushes herself toward
the scene. The four men close the distance and hover a few steps away from
the two men and Annabelle. One, a strong fellow that serves as one of the
builders, points the plant. "Leave," he rumbles in low command. "For those
whose bodies you wear, we would rather not kill you here in our village."

Lawrence glances towards the ground, and shakes his head slowly. "What
will it take?" he asks quietly. "What will it take to convince you that it
is me, and not Cinabar, who speaks the truth? What will it take to
convince you that what you are doing is wrong?"

"It /is/ wrong," Adam adds. "If...if Cinabar was right, then wouldn't all
of her ideas have worked? They haven't, and we still live lives of fear."

The man wavers for a moment, then speaks loud enough that all around can
hear him. "Stop the monsters. If you can stop them, we will believe you
and follow a different way." One of the other men calls from the crowd,
"If we didn't sacrifice, our village would be completely destroyed."
Cinabar continues to push her way through the crowd, stalking toward the
men that speak against her.

Lawrence draws a breath, and nods slowly. "If that's what it takes," he
says, "then I'll do it." He raises his voice slightly. "And when I return
-- and I *will* return -- I expect to find my wife unharmed!"

"Sacrifice," Adam says. "It isn't sacrifice. We hide, like rats, waiting
to see who /they/ take this year. Can we stop them? I don't know for
certain. But, we have to stand up for ourselves, our town, and our
families. I will go as well, and if any of you hurt my father..." he
leaves the last unsaid.

Annabelle turns her wet face to Lawrence and suddenly runs to him,
clinging to him despite the censure of the town. "Don't," she whispers
brokenly. "You'll die out there."

Lawrence takes Annabelle in his arms. "Shh," he says, pressing a kiss into
her hair. "I'll come back for you. I promise. Have I broken a promise to
you yet?"

The woman shakes her head, biting her lip as she tries to smile bravely.
She takes a step or two back, just as Cinabar steps free. She points at
Lawrence and Adam. "Out!"

Lawrence reaches out to slap Cinabar's hand away. "I will live," he says,
low and dangerous, "to see you burn for the lies you have peddled on these
people. On my friends."

Adam stands there, for another moment, looking at the eyes of the
assembled townsmen. He turns to the married man, and nods with him.

Cinabar looks almost as if she will explode in apolexy, and save Lawrence
the trouble. "A curse on you," she says with venom. "I will lay it and may
it rot your skin from your bones, wolf-ridden." Annabelle makes a faint
cry and collapses, as if her knees were cut from under her. The other
people, all men, draw back from Cinabar and the two outcasts.

Lawrence shakes his head slowly and turns from the crone. He crouches to
take Annabelle in his arms one more time, and kisses her tenderly. "I'll
see you soon," he tells her, then rises and begins walking out, away from
the village. He doesn't wait to see whether Adam is following.

Nowhere else to go, Adam does indeed follow the older man. He doesn't look
back from the villiage. he turns to Lawrence. "I...I'm sorry. This is my
fault."

"I had the dream too," Lawrence says quietly, gruffly, once the pair are
some distance away from those who might overhear. "And I didn't do it for
you."

The village lets them go. As the men move past Annabelle to follow the two
men to the edge of the village, two of the other women dart to her side
and gently pull her away. As the pair walks through the fields that
Lawrence was just this morning working, the din of the village slowly
fades away.

Adam's eyes widen. "The same type of dream?" He shakes his head. "When I
was locked in, I started...to have these visions. I tried to call the
wolf, and saw my own face. That...dream-self said things, most of which I
didn't understand..."

Lawrence shrugs his shoulders slowly. "I saw myself running with the
wolves," he says simply. "I don't know what it means. I don't want to know
what it means. I want to be with Annabelle, and grow old with her. But I
don't want her to live or my children to grow up in fear for their lives
-- of wolves or of Cinabar. That's the reason I did what I did, and you
don't owe me an apology for it."

Adam hrms. "I was thinking of running away, but someone has to stand up to
those things. We can't live our lives like that." he turns to the forest
again. "I...need answers. I have to know what this means."

Lawrence shrugs again. "You look for your answers. All I'm looking for is
a chance to talk to the wolves before they kill me, if that's possible."
He picks up his pace, and heads into the woods.

"That's the only place I think I'm going to find what I am looking for,"
Adam replies, keeping pace.

Time passes. The woods grows thicker, though still somthing nags at the
back of each man's mind. Although the trees grow close, they still seem
oddly sparse and thin among the rocks and sloped hills. As if they had
walked another forest, before.

"Keep up, then," Lawrence says quietly. He travels onwards in silence for
several more hours, until nearly nightfall, at which point he stops and
makes himself comfortable seated with his back against one of the larger
trees.

Adam eyes the ground, tension growing. "Something feel...odd to you?"

Lawrence folds his arms across his chest for warmth. "It's probably
nothing," he mutters. He doesn't sound particularly convinced, but neither
does he seem particularly willing to admit to his own unease.

Adam shakes his head, not as confused as before. He leans against
another tree, and closes his eyes, trying to call up that image again.
In that moment, his stomach growls.

"There's a pretty big stream less than a half day's walk from here,"
Lawrence says quietly, his eyes on the ground. "We'll probably be able
to find something to eat there. I just don't want to travel in the
dark and risk tripping on something and breaking my neck."

"I can understand that," Adam says, and closes his eyes again. He tries
to sink inward, tries to remember...

Neither young man has spent the night in the woods before, or have they?
Although the noises in the shadows make them start, there's something
else that catagorizes these noises and dismisses them. This, coupled
with the exhaustion of the day, allows them to sleep.

Adam sleeps soundlessly, for all appearances.

You paged Adam with 'After sleep has stolen you away to the grey place,
you again hear your own voice. "I'm here."'.

From afar, Adam gasps. "Wait," Adam says. "Don't go..."

Lawrence stays awake for a long time, staring up at the treetops. When
slumber finally does claim him, his sleep is light and restless -- he
startles awake several times during the night, and when morning comes
he is hollow-eyed and weary looking.

You paged Adam with 'The voice answers, "I can't go. I'm you."'.

Adam pages: I'll listen," Adam replies, nervous. "Just...what's going
on?"

You paged Adam with 'The voice replies, "You're me. You just have to
remember."'.

Adam pages: Adam tries not to be confused. "I'm...you. Then, who /are/
we? One of them? The Wolf-spirits?"

You paged Adam with 'Spirit and body, replies the voice. It's starting
to fade now, as wakefulness comes. Garou are one.'.

"Garou..." the unfamiliar words tumble from Adam's mouth as he finally
comes awake. He rises, blinking rapidly. "Spirit and body," he
whispers.

You paged Lawrence with 'You know that word. Garou. That's what the
wolf-men are, though you've never known the word before.'.

"Why did you just say that?" Lawrence snaps, irritable in spite of
himself due to sleep loss.

The younger boy shakes his head. "I...had that same dream, again. I have
to remember."

Lawrence rises, dusting off his rear end as he does so. "I keep
remembering things that I have no idea how I know. That word. That's
what they're called. I've never heard the word before you just said
it, but somehow I know that." Without further analysis, he begins
heading off through the woods in the direction of the stream.

The air slowly begins to warm in the thin morning sunlight. A few
birdcalls punctuate the air, and every once in a while a feathered
form explodes from the bushes to perch in one of the stunted trees.

You paged Adam with 'You know how to hunt those. It would taste so good.
Blood in your mouth.'.

Adam rises as well. "I know. That's the first time I heard the word,
Garou, but...it felt familiar, like I was supposed to know it, and
what it-" he stops, seeing the bird. He eyes the fowl's movement,
stomach growling. His eyes narrow at it...

Lawrence's pace slows when Adam stops behind him. "We need to keep going
if we're going to make that stream," he says. "I'm hungry too, but
you're not going to catch a bird with your bare hands."

If Adam hears Lawrence, he doesn't react. His eyes are still riveted on
that bird, and his voice makes an odd sound. Growling?

You paged Lawrence with 'Your annoyance grows stronger. If you could
force him to meet your eyes, you could make him do what you wanted.'.

Lawrence tenses slightly, and turns. "Are you listening to a word I'm
saying?" he demands, his voice increasing in volume slightly. He
begins stalking forward somewhat confrontationally, towards the
younger man. "*Look* *at* *me* when I'm talking to you!"

You paged Adam with 'He's challenging your right to hunt.'.

"Don't. Tell. Me." Adam drops each word like an anvil. "What. To. Do."
His eyes are still on that same bird. "I...can grab it."

"Fine," Lawrence snaps back. "Stay here trying to catch the bird.
Starve, for all I care." He spins on his heel and begins stalking into
the woods. "I have more important things to do than babysit."

You paged Adam with 'You feel a momentary surge of concern. Pack should
stay together.'.
You paged Lawrence with 'You feel wrong abandoning him, but you don't
know why. Your annoyance can easily override this.'.

The boy's stance...softens. "Wait," he calls, softly. "You...can't go
there alone. Neither can I."

Lawrence turns back again, his eyes nearly blazing. "Then stop standing
around imagining you can catch the stupid bird!"

Adam just shakes his head, not in the mood to argue. "Fine, yes," he
says, following Lawrence.

Nothing futher disturbs the pair before the reach the stream, which
chatters along with its promise of cold, clear water.

Lawrence stoops by the side of the stream and drinks almost greedily. He
also takes the opportunity to wash the grime of travel from his face.
After a while, he begins searching the edge of the stream for edible
roots and berries.

Adam takes a long drink, almost if he hasn't drank anything in days.
While Lawrence searches, Adam takes time to wash off the travel dust.

You paged Lawrence with 'Though you've often hunted, it's been much
rarer that you've searched for other food this far from the village.
In your mind's ear, you hear a woman's soft alto teaching you about
finding food in the woods. You don't know this voice, yet it is
totally familiar.'.
You paged Adam with 'Something about your reflection draws you.
Something almost remembered.'.

Washing off, Adam stops on his reflection. He stares at it. Not
narcisstically, but something else.

You paged Adam with 'You see yourself, floating in the water. The lesson
of your first trip to the Umbra comes to you, in the quiet voice of
your teacher. Spirit and body. Garou are one. The reflection is the
doorway.'.

Lawrence begins to wander away from the stream, searching further out
into the woods.

Adam remains fixed on the stream, and that reflection. He's not staring
/at/ the reflection, anymore. It almost seems...as if he's trying to
look past it...

You paged Lawrence with 'The plants are wrong. At least, most of them,
even though they're the plants you've seen on every hunting trip of
your life. But you do find one or two of the ones in your lessons, and
the sour tastes of the leaves at least kills the worst growling of
your belly.'.

You paged Adam with 'Your face ripples as breeze blows on the moving
surface of the stream. It's as if you see your own face, painted with
red and grey and green symbols. Then it explodes on you, in a moment
of revelation. Who you are. Adam. Homid. Children of Gaia. Philodox.
You are Barks-Softly, and you are in Dream, on your Rite of Passage.'.

"Oh. Shit!" Adam exclaims. He shakes his head, as if just waking up.
"Holy fucking shit...." He perks up, looking into the woods.
"Lawrence!" he calls.

You paged Adam with 'After the first hit of it recedes, you do notice a
couple of odd things. Though the dream personality no longer
dominates, you can still--access it--if you will. And you don't feel
that burn of rage that you have every day since your First Change.'.

Lawrence is on his way back towards the stream when Adam calls for him,
and picks up his pace a bit. "What?" He returns carrying a few leaves,
presumably picked from nearby plants.

Adam thinks on this for a long moment. "I need you to see something." He
backs away from the stream, motioning Lawrence towards it. "It's like
there's something odd in the stream."

Lawrence looks at Adam like the younger man has just sprouted an extra
head, but, somewhat hesitantly, goes over to the side of the stream
and looks into the water. "It's just water," he replies.

"Check the reflection, Lawrence," Adam says. "I know it sounds odd, but
look past it."

You paged Lawrence with 'Something tugs on your memory, though you don't
have the epiphany. Something about doing what Adam is saying, and
stepping into the world of the spirits. In your peripheral vision you
see, not Adam, but Louisa. Next to her, and lecturing in a growling
voice, is a hulking monsterous man with a kind expression on his ugly
face.'.

Lawrence jumps back from the stream, visibly shaken. "Th-that's...
that's the woman I saw in my dream, who was there instead of
Annabelle," he gasps. "And--" He cuts off, shakes his head, and
stumbles back another few steps from the edge of the stream.

You paged Lawrence with 'The vision disappears, but this time it leaves
you with names. Louisa. Luc.'.

Adam nods quietly. "Same woman I saw." He regards the other man for a
moment. "Lawrence?"

Lawrence closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face. "This is crazy,"
he declares. "I'm just tired. That's all." He seems to be talking more
to convince himself than to discuss the matter with Adam. "I have to
find these Garou. Get them to stop attacking the village." He begins
wading out into the stream, to cross to the other side.

Adam moves to follow Lawrence. "Tired? Then wake up." He shakes his
head. "Always hated those stories about the Impurgium."

Lawrence spares a glance back over his shoulder towards Adam. "What are
you talking about?" he snaps. "I am awake." He continues trudging
through the stream, and up the bank on the other side.

Adam follows Lawrence to the bank. "What did you see, besides that
woman?"

Lawrence doesn't look back at Adam. He continues into the woods on the
far side of the stream. "A man. Big and ugly." He keeps his speech
terse and measured as he walks.

Adam, naturally, keeps pace. "Big and ugly, or was it a part of yourself
you refuse to see?"

"*Stop*," Lawrence says flatly. "You're talking crazy, as crazy as
Cinabar." He picks up his pace, as if to move away from Adam. "I have
things to do."

Adam rolls his eyes. Gaia, even in this life, he's still as stubborn
as...the Cub shakes his head. "Lawrence," he says. "I'm not crazy.
Neither are you. Look at me."

Lawrence whirls on Adam, and in that motion throws a wild punch at the
other man's face. "*STOP* *IT*!" he shouts.

Adam tries to leap backward a little from Lawrence's wild swing. He
freezes, and says. "Dammit, Reaches-High, listen to me!"

You paged Lawrence with 'Now that name chimes a whole host of other
associations. You remember being named, even if you still don't
remember everything. :)'.

Lawrence presses his hands to his temples, his face contorting in a
semi-agonized expression. "I am *not* going to listen to you," he
shouts back. "Everything you say to me is making my head swim, so just
stop it! I have a wife who I made a promise to, and I am going to keep
that promise, and you are *not* going to stop me!" He begins running,
full-tilt, into the woods.

Adam follows after Lawrence, putting on the speed.

A howl comes up from behind the runners before one can get a decisive
lead on the other. A hunting howl calling to a pack.

Panic lengthens Lawrence's strides. He is no longer so concerned with
running away from Adam; now he's just trying to get away, far away.

Adam stops in his tracks at the howl. "Stay with me, Lawrence, and you
won't die! Andrea would never forgive me!"

Adam sees Lawrence run, and still chases him, anyways.

The two men are running too fast to really notice the plants bending
behind them, or the flash of dark fur as wolves follow the scent like
they are running deer to ground.

Lawrence's panicked run ends when he trips over a root. The fall sends
him sprawling into the underbrush; he has barely come to a halt when
he starts scrambling forward, trying to get further away, now on his
hands and knees.

Adam catches up to Lawrence. He hears the howls again. ~Stop!~ he calls
suddenly in a strange language. ~Not foes!~

You paged Lawrence with 'You understand that, though it's not in any
language you've ever heard in your human life.'.

Silence. Then three black-furred wolves, two flanking a center alpha,
come from the brush. The wolf to the right of the alpha is missing her
right ear in a mass of scar tissue that spreads over half her head,
but her yellow eyes are narrowed at the wolves. The wolf on the left
looks young, almost delicate, with long legs and a slender muzzle. The
center wolf bears several scars of battle, and when she raises her
head to stare into Adam's face, he can feel the impact of her breeding
in the pit of his stomach. ~Who are you, men, who speak the Mother
Tongue in Fury lands?~

Home          Main Log Index           GM Log Index            Dream Realm RoP Log Index