It is currently 20:51 Pacific Time on Sat Sep 3 2005. Currently the moon is in the waxing New Moon phase (1% full). Bawn: Central Forest(#2876RA) The forest is dark and quiet. No, not quiet. Listening. The ancient firs rear up all around, branches interwoven in a dense roof of dark green. Fallen needles lie in a thick carpet on the ground, heaped up around the drifts of undergrowth clinging to the scarce patches of light reaching the forest floor. Every sound seems muffled, and the sharp scent of pine hangs in the air like the clouds of midges that swarm ceaselessly beneath the branches. Even the many deer who roam here seem to step more quietly than usual, and the songbirds seldom sing. The forest spreads out around you in all directions. Resists-Dance rises up into a sit as soon as Yi is off of him with a small groan, shaking his head. ~Any idiot can scratch someone in Crinos. With all this power, only a truly inept Garou wouldn't be able to cause a flesh wound. I can at least do that much to everyone I fight.~ He lifts a paw to scratch behind his head, mindful of his claws. ~If I can't even beat friendly Garou, I'm screwed against Spirals unless I find some silver. Or a tank. Or a silver tank.~ He glances at Yi's belly wounds, then looks back into the woods. ~Or a big ass bomb.~ Grey paces slowly through the dark forest, and though no lupus (and wearing his birth form anyway), he's not inept at moving through the woods at night. A polished stone hangs from a string in his hand, swinging gently, just a bit out of time with his careful steps. Wind direction and wolfish senses being what they are, his scent -- tinged strongly with the city but not, for once, with the acrid stink of cigarettes -- and the sound of his approach are noticeable long before he comes into view. Runner stops licking when she's satisfied with cleaning what scratch she has. Sitting with the cub beside her, the fostern bumps her nose against the other's arm. ~You have the warrior's blood. You will win, eventually, but you must learn from your losses too. As for the Spiral Dancers...~ Here the ragabash fades into a low, almost curse-like growl, ~they will be dead before they reach you here.~ The growl tweaks itself slightly with the scent of the Walker wafting through. Yi looks in the incoming wind's direction, ears pushing forward. The Asiatic dire wolf comes alive in this beast, bringing a terrifying living example if one were to imagine those old fossilized bones fleshed out and breathing with life. Thick rusty reddish-brown fur that melds into a pale brown and white underside covers her body in the form, accented by black triangular ears and tail. She stands tall enough to almost look an average human in the eye with her feral golden amber gaze. Scarring could be noticed all along her body, adding to a certain toughness about the beast - she's a survivor of several different levels of horror. A brand-like scar on her right shoulderblade is obscured by fur, but visible to the discerning eye: an ankh-like glyph, the stem elongated and twisted to form an 'S' down her back, ending in a tight, short, crudely carved spiral. A long scar on the inside of her right hind leg shows a heavy injury from before, coupled with the slightest limp. (+details Three-Blades's Scars) Resists-Dance shakes his head again. ~Eventually. You all won't always be here to protect me, not after I rite. Especially not if I manage to find somewhere other than the Odeon to live. Will just any silver damage? What about silver plating? Or dust?~ He glances up when he hears the sound of someone approaching, then looks back to Yi, more concerned with her than whoever it is. ~At least good old explosions and fire fuck up everything.~ Grey pauses, his head cocked at the sounds of deep, growling voices conversing in the Mother's Tongue and then squints down at the stone, which is barely visible in the darkness. A quick tug on the string yanks the stone up into his hand, and it disappears into a jeans pocket as he moves, with intent, toward the hulking hispo shapes. Thomas Grey is a man hard-used by the world. It shows mostly in his face, a hawkish visage that's extensively scarred down the left side, twisting keloid making a ruin of aristocratic features. If not for the scars, he'd probably be fairly handsome in a severe sort of way. The angles of his face are sharply defined, the nobility in them scoured nearly to the bone. His thick, shaggy black hair brushes near his shoulders, often hanging messily in his face. There's grey at the temples, visible if one inspects closely. There's grey in the few days' worth of stubble on his face, too, around the mouth; he looks older than his thirty-something years. His deep-set eyes -- the right dark brown, the left pale and clouded -- have the shadowed look of someone who does not sleep well. At six-foot-three, he stands taller than most men, and an inherent athleticism indicates that he could probably hold his own in a fight. There's also an aura of pent-up violence about him, a tightly-controlled rage within the lanky, muscled frame that could be lethal if unleashed. He's dressed in a light grey long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting blue jeans. His black combat boots, like their owner look as though they've been through a few wars. Runner looks intently into the dark, nose working and ears twitching. The ragabash breaks her gaze off just long enough to rumble her reply at the cub. ~Destroying everything gains nothing. And you will /know/ when silver is harmful.~ The ragabash slowly rises to all fours, returning her gaze towards the direction of the approaching Philodox. Resists-Dance glances over towards where Yi is looking with a shrug, looking back to her. ~I'd rather find out without touching it... ~ He shrugs. ~Collateral damage. Acceptable losses. Bombs are messy, but they work really really good. Boom is better than clang, smash, or pow. Though claws are pretty good at what they do.~ He ponders for a moment, unaware of Grey. ~Do you think a Crinos could fire a recoiless gun?~ The new arrival is the one who answers, and with a flat, authoritive, "No. The claws are too big. And the war-form's not made for handling complex tools. You want that, take Glabro, or Homid form." Thomas Grey has arrived. He looks toward Yi for a moment before inclining his head and greeting her with a coolly polite, "Three-Blades." Runner flickers her ears once as the Walker philodox's voice sounds. ~Grey,~ the ragabash rumbles in reply. ~Three-Blades can also be called Runs-the-Gauntlet now too, fostern as she is.~ She 'grins' to the halfmoon, actually looking fairly pleased to see him. To the cub, she adds, ~What he said is right. Leave the guns for human hands, and claws to warform.~ Her attention doesn't stay away from the Walker for too long however. ~You and your tribe are well?~ Resists-Dance jumps some when he hears the words of the other Garou, turning quickly to look over the older man. ~Glabro wouldn't have the strength to fire a big gun like that.~ He says, quickly recovering from his surprise. ~And the beauty of machines is that you can modify them when they don't work, when you need them to do something else.~ He lifts a hand to briefly cover his eyes. ~It's not a gun. It's a high explosive cannon with a floating thing in the breech to reduce the force of the recoil. And it's a stupid question anyways, as I'll never find a cannon and enough ammo to matter.~ Grey is distracted from answering Yi by the cub's answer, and Basil finds himself the sole focus of the Glass Walker's intent gaze. "And where are you going to get this device? Where are you going to store it? How do you plan to transport it? And what the hell are you going to do when you've brought the federal authorities down on our heads and murdered dozens of innocent lives because you just /had/ to go for the biggest bang?" The educated voice is chilly with disapproval. Runner waits in patience, looking from philodox to ahroun, letting the point sink in. Resists-Dance thinks for a moment or two. ~I suppose I'd have to experiment somewhere to learn how to make more controlled bombs, or do it where the police don't care. Or do it where it looks like a meth lab exploded. Killing the innocent people would create suffering and then in turn would feed the Wyrm, but would killing a group of say... Spirals, or powerful formori with less chance of harming Garou be worth it? We already kill innocent people to protect the Veil. This would be killing them to better the world. Shitty... But... ~ Grey's upper lip wrinkles up slightly, showing teeth in an expression of disgust that's both human and lupine. "Killing to protect the Veil is sometimes unavoidable, and /usually/ occurs because someone's been stupid or careless." Someone like Basil, is the implication, judging from his tone of voice and the way he's looking at the cub. "Because someone decided to take the easy way out or decided that those human lives were unimportant. Because they're just /humans/. Just /mundanes/. Not as important as /us/." Dark moon or not, this is clearly a subject which trigger's the Walker's anger. His nostrils flare as he draws in a breath and pulls himself upright with a flick of his head to jerk a stray lock of hair away from his good eye. "Tamara has asked me to talk to you about firearms, their uses and their limitations. She seems to think you're of the opinion that you're unarmed and helpless without a gun." Runner twitches her ears again, hackles bending but not lifting. Her eyes, though, have shifted upon the cub and are just staring at him, piercingly. Dark moon it is; the ragabash's moon. She doesn't look too pleased by the cub's words either, but for the most part is not outright horrified. Resists-Dance lifts his hands up to his chest defensively. ~I've already had one fight tonight. I don't want another. I'm not talking about that anymore.~ He drops his paws onto his lap, giving only the briefest of glances at Yi. ~I don't think I'm unarmed. But I think they're useful, especially against other humans with guns. And if a shotgun can take down a deer yards away, what happens if I press a double barreled shotgun with magnum slugs to the back of a formor's head and pull the trigger? Or what about mercury bullets? Not useful for the Umbra, but... ~ He glances at Yi. ~She uses knives. Human weapons can't be completely useless.~ Monster of myth, legends and nightmares. A terrible avenger of the wild... And a beast that seems to have trouble walking. Though a touch ungainly in his current form, he can still move. Judging from the length of his claws and a maw of natural steak knives, that isn't all. A coat of silver white fur swept in many spots at an upward angle now covers him from head to toe. Mixed with the white in random places, a sooty coal black shows through. Large Amber eyes burn with the fiery passion of an Ahroun's rage within. Grey folds his arms across his chest. "Did I say they were? No. I personally used a fifty-caliber rifle during the battle to take this caern back from the Wyrm. I've done more than my share of sniping. And many Garou use knives and other made weapons, from the cheapest switchblades to the mightiest Grand Klaives. They have their uses. They also have their drawbacks and limitations. For example... how old are you, Basil?" Runner licks her muzzle, rumbling in comment. ~The Walkers and Guards-Flame helped greatly with their human guns and armor. And I use knives because I know what they can and cannot do.~ Resists-Dance shakes his head. ~No, Grey-Rhya. That is a very large gun though, do you also have one of those big dubya dubya two m-gees? How far can you shoot from?~ He suddenly seems very interested in Grey. ~How did it to against the targets? What did you shoot? Do you know anything about explosives?~ He lifts his hands and lets them fall again. ~I dunno. I hate knives. At least the small ones. Even when I hit a human in the neck with one it barely did anything, so I got some bigger ones.~ He shrugs again. ~Thirteen. It's a number that suits me well.~ Grey shakes his head slightly. Ignoring the cub's sniffing after details regarding the so-called Big Fucking Gun, he sticks to brutal practicality. "Legally, you're not allowed to own, purchase, or be in control of any firearm. Not even a rifle or shotgun to be used on a private range. You're certainly not legally allowed to possess a handgun or a concealed-carry permit. Which means, if you're running about the city with one under your jacket and you get into a tight spot with the police, needing to protect both the Veil and the lives of those who are /also/ sworn to protect the city, you're given the added complication of having to get rid of a highly illegal firearm. Or have to deal with the problem of being /caught/ with said illegal firearm." He shifts his weight slightly from one foot to the other. "And that doesn't even take into account the effects of the Curse. You're an Ahroun. Therefore, you make /at least/ half the humans you meet nervous. That includes the police." His eyebrows rise. "Do you know what happens when police get nervous? How about when they get nervous and have a reason to believe you're /armed/? A kinfolk friend of mine used her /completely legal/ firearm to take down a man who had shot and killed another and was threatening to kill again, and she /still/ had problems with the cops." Runner glances back to the Walker, ears perking again. Kinfolk mention sparks recognition in the aagabash, and she visibly works to recall any possible specifics to the incident in mind. The attempt doesn't go on for very long. ~Legally I'm probably not supposed to carry knives, or kill rapists gangters either. Where I live, where the Gnawers live, it's nothing like around your house. But you already know that. I can't even remember the last time I saw a cop car around there, and no officer in their right mind would walk that beat. I'm not completely stupid, you know. I see the way everyone acts around me now. They treat me like a monster somewhere in the back of their heads, because they know whats inside of me even though they can't see it. I know full well about that. I've seen it enough.~ He looks off to the side for a moment, then looks back to Grey. ~There are situations where I could use them. That range can be important, especially when they have them too.~ "Trust me, you'll get in less trouble for a knife than a gun." Grey's eyes narrow. "And don't /think/ I don't know how it is where you live, on the south end, by the wharves, around Bridge and Regan, in the industrial sector. I've walked those streets. I've /lived/ on those streets. I was patrolling that area when you were still looking for pubic hairs and figuring out that you might do something with your cock besides piss out of it." He spits out a Slavic-sounding word. "In fact, I was fighting the Wyrm while people were killing each other in Sarajevo. You think south-side St. Claire is hell? Imagine it during a full-scale war, with bombs dropping from the goddamn sky. And /that/, boy, was /nothing/ compared to the Scar Realm. That was /paradise/ compared to the Umbra's vision of the ultimate urban blight. I fought and survived /that/, too." His nostrils flare again, and the mismatched eyes glower at the young Crinos with all the weight of rage, experience, and ancient breeding behind it. "So you can quit thinking that you know better than me about the tough life in the city. I know more than you. I've lived more than you. Understand?" Runner's response with the growing tension coming from Grey is visible. Her stance gets just a touch stiffer, her expression towards the philodox just that twinge more grim. But still, she lets the halfmoon's words soak into the air. Resists-Dance lifts his hands up again in the same manner he'd done before. ~I didn't know. Not a lot you can know about someone you've never met before. I never said I knew /better/, I was just saying I knew a little.~ The Garou looks like he wants to ask a question, but doesn't. ~Why would you want to go to a place like that? The Scar realm, I mean?~ He shakes his head. ~I know that there are worse places than St Claire. Yi's told me about a lot of shitty things she's been through. I know just about every single Garou has had some terribly shitty awful thing happen to them, and again, and again... ~ He lowers his gaze again, feeling the weight of the other Garou's anger baring down on him. ~I guess if I live long enough, I'm going to be just like a lot of you.~ Grey's nose wrinkles. "I shouldn't have to spell it out for you, boy. If you'd open your eyes instead of your fucking mouth, you'd see I'm old enough to be your fucking father. Do you think I got these scars during a shaving accident? Do you think, as a Glass Walker, I don't know about guns or how they can and /can't/ be used?" His eyes narrow. "A simple answer, please. Yes or no." Runner, with a twitch of her ears, notes that Grey's maybe old enough to be /her/ father too. Chalk one for the ragabash's humor, disturbing though it is for herself. Resists-Dance opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again without looking at Grey. Theres a long silence between them as the Gnawer finds an interesting spot on the ground to look at, then says a quiet. "No." Grey flicks a glance sidelong at Yi, catching some of that comment. He grimaces, but turns back to Basil without responding to the remark. "When I tell you something about how possessing an illegal firearm can make your life difficult, do you think that I /might/ know what the jesus-fuck I'm talking about? Yes or no." Runner this time refrains from commenting, instead glancing towards the cub. Her manner gets just a touch curious. Resists-Dance seems to have gotten awfully distant and quiet all of a sudden, especially for a usually chatty and relatively bright Ahroun. ~Yes.~ Grey grunts. "Good. Let me reiterate, then. Guns are useful, but they can get you in trouble. Large-scale weapons are difficult to obtain unless you have very good contacts and a great deal of money. I doubt that you have either. The death of civilians is something to be avoided, not shrugged off as collateral damage. Thanks to the Curse, most of the human population is afraid of you and will react accordingly... sometimes with violence." His eyebrows rise. "As for humans armed with guns or knives or whatnot, remember what you are. A Garou. You can survive bullets. You can survive being knifed. You can survive the most brutal gang-beatings. And, for your information, nothing unnerves an armed opponent more than someone who keeps coming despite having no visible weapons. Someone who shows no fear." ~No matter what you look like,~ the ragabash inserts with a thoughtful rumble. ~I wish I did have those things... ~ He quietly says after that. ~I've seen the way humans react to that. I've seen the way they fear the Crinos, or that look in their eye when-.~ Resists-the-Dance pauses and raises a paw to his forehead, rubbing at his fuzzy temples. ~I need to find Tamara and get my damned cigarettes back.~ Grey shakes his head slightly and glances again over at Yi. "Congratulations on your Challenge, by the way." His temper is cooling, but doesn't go away entirely. Runner glances up at the philodox, no concealment of surprise there. In fact, it's disbelief. ~Thank you,~ the fostern replies, ears splaying, quickly shifting towards a pleased gratitude. Then the ears come forward again, the ragabash adding, ~And though I do not know if Holds-the-Line wants it, I hope it is not too much to pass on to her my thanks, for her coming to the challenge.~ She glances back towards Basil a moment. ~I would worry more about getting your clothes back, first.~ Resists-Dance rises up to his feet in a slow, tired sort of way without looking at either of the Garou. He turns and starts to walk off out of the lcearing and into the woods, but his pace is slow and there is easily enough time to stop him if they wish. "I'll let her know," Grey says to the Fostern, keeping that tone of cool, but proper, courtesy. He glances over as Basil starts to leave, nose wrinkling and his mouth twisting into a little grimace, but doesn't make to stop the cub from slouching off. Runner swings an ear towards Grey, but her eyes remain on the cub. ~Hey!~ she barks at him. ~Is that how you thank an elder who has come all this way to teach you?~ The elder Gnawer's tail thumps hard on the ground. Resists-Dance pauses in his steps without turning around, and speaks in a low, hoarse whisper. ~I'm sorry, Yi-Rhya, Grey-Rhya. May I please go?~ He doesn't move an inch, waiting for the say so from his Elder. Grey unfolds his arms and pushes his hands into his pockets, letting the cub's elder handle things. By the look on his face, he remains completely unimpressed with the young Ahroun. Runner sniffs, tail twitching as she weighs the request. Then she rises to her paws again, and turns to Grey. ~The cub will learn, eventually. Or else.~ Then looking back over her shoulder, she replies with a chuff of dismissal to the cub. ~I will find Spider-Eyes soon and speak to her.~ Grey nods to the Fostern. "I'll take my leave of you, then. Gaia watch your steps." He inclines his head to Gauntlet-Runner. Terribly, terribly polite. Resists-Dance walks off into the woods without another word, pausing just in sight and sitting on his knees with his back to the duo. Runner dips her head just a touch. ~Gaia grant you good hunting, Grey.~ Hers is polite as well, but a touch warmer. Grey, dismissed, heads back through the bawn, heading westward.