It is currently 19:06 Pacific Time on Sun Feb 12 2006.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (98% full).

Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 33 degrees
     Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric 
     pressure reading is 30.51 and rising, and the relative humidity is 89 
     percent. The dewpoint is 30 degrees Fahrenheit (-1 degrees Celsius.)

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. The angles of his face are 
     severe, the nobility in them scoured nearly to the bone. His thick black 
     hair falls past his shoulders; both it and his short beard show signs of 
     premature greying. His deep-set eyes -- the right dark brown, the left 
     white -- have the shadowed look of someone who does not sleep well. He 
     looks older than his thirty-something years.

At six-foot-three, he stands taller than many men, and an inherent athleticism
     indicates that he could probably hold his own in a fight. There's also an 
     aura of potential violence about him, a tightly-controlled, murderous rage 
     within the lanky, muscled frame.

His faded fatigue camo pants are tucked into a pair of battered black boots
     that look ready to survive a few more wars. The ankle-length black leather 
     duster he wears looks like it's seen almost as much hard use. Underneath 
     is it a plain black long-sleeved t-shirt.

Tugging hard on the heavy door opens it with a creak. You step through into the
     living room of the house.

Farmhouse: Hallway and Living Room

All doorways in the front part of the house lead to the front hallway, a
     J-shaped area with the short tail starting at the stairs, the front door 
     hitting the bottom curve, the doorless opening to the living room halfway 
     up the long side, and the also doorless opening to the kitchen and dining 
     room at the very top. The hall has a simple wooden floor, and decorated 
     with a generic print of soft-colored flowers hanging on the wall to the 
     right of the front door, and a tall table sitting under the print which 
     serves as a place to toss keys. A closet under the stairs serves as a 
     place to hang coats or to toss shoes.

The doorless opening to the living room is halfway up the side of the hall's J,
     and the word cozy might spring to mind when looking into is, as it seems 
     to radiate comforting vibrations. A long couch sits against the south wall 
     beneath a large bay window curtained only by sheers that manages to 
     obscure the view in but only filters the day's light. A variety of 
     out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly 
     presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which 
     line the eastern wall. Three chairs sit about the room, focused inward, to 
     allow group conversations. Large floor pillows are stacked in one corner 
     of the room, except one, which lies carelessly in the middle of the floor, 
     apparently left out the last time it was used.

An opening in the northern end of the hallway allows access to the kitchen and
     dining room at the back of the house, while carpeted stairs twist up at 
     the other end of the hall, leading to the second floor. A door at the base 
     of the J lets out to the front porch.

Stacey gives a half-smile. "It's lonely. But things will get better. Can't get
     much worse, right? And I have my pack, which I'm very grateful for. I 
     don't know what I'd do without them standing beside me now."

Emma is sitting in one of the chairs, looking tense but less immediately
     dangerous than she was a few moments ago. She gives a nod to Stacey. "If 
     you need anything- well anything that I can help you with. Ask." She 
     glances to the kitchen then and lets out a short sigh.

Grey lets himself in, calling out, "Anyone home?" With the moon still full and
     high, the Glass Walker's body language bristles with tightly controlled 
     rage.

Stacey smiles more sincerely. "Thank you, Emma. That means a lot. It really
     does." She glances over toward the hallway at Grey's voice, calling back, 
     "Hello, Grey. Emma and I are here, at least."

Emma looks up to her packmate and nods. "Just us. Though that's probably for
     the better. If others were here, I'd be throttling them."

Grey hangs up his coat -- it's the big black leather duster he'd worn at the
     Moot -- and joins the two young Ahrouns. "I know the feeling," he says to 
     Emma. His mouth twists. "Damned Bone Gnawers."

Stacey gives a nod. "Yeah, we were talking about the revel some. But I was
     telling Emma that it was good she was able to bring everyone back alive, 
     even with what happened."

Emma squints her eyes at this, and turns to Grey. "What is your take on it
     Grey? If I did something in error, I want to know." She looks between them 
     for a moment. "I did not want the lot of us chasing after them into 
     another battle, or more spiders, while the ones we dealt a blow to called 
     in back up. Don't leave one unfinished battle to start another. Now with 
     such small numbers."

Grey remains standing, arms folded across his chest. "No, you were correct.
     Those /dogs/, on the other hand..." His lip curls. "There is a /reason/ 
     why we have a law not to challenge during war. Lack of battle discipline 
     can turn a decent fight into a total disaster. The three-legged bitch in 
     particular..." He trails off with a Serbian curse.

Stacey looks from Grey to Emma. "I agree with him. From everything I've heard,
     you did just fine, while they disobeyed your orders. And were wounded 
     because of it. I think you have the right idea in going to the Philodox 
     with this."

Vera's footsteps are heard as she comes down the stairs.

Emma nods her head to the others in the room, "I think I'd get a better feeling
     of resolution, by knocking some fuckin' sense into them. But I will take 
     it to the Judges. Especially considering that Gnawer bitch has rank on me." 
     The jaws clench again at this.

Grey frowns. "It was my impression that Wrong Way was a feral, too. Which means
     she /should know better/." Grimacing, he drags fingers back through his 
     hair. "Yes, take it to a Philodox. Leslie and Blackriver were both there, 
     in fact. I, as your packmate, probably would not be seen as being 
     particularly objective."

Stacey tilts her head. "I did not know that you had joined Havoc, Grey.
     Congrats with that, both of you." She glances toward the stairs as 
     footsteps are heard.

Vera makes her appearance at the base of the stairs and smiles graciously at
     those gathered. "Evening."

Vera is a woman of average height in her mid to late twenties whose features
     have been prematurely aged though hardship and the elements. Prominent 
     crows feet are visible on the woman's face, along with a number of deep 
     lines around her mouth and across her forehead. Plain dark brown hair is 
     pulled back in a simple ponytail, framing fairly angular features and a 
     smallish nose. The woman's eyes are a dark brown, almost black in colour 
     and hold little emotion. She carries herself with an aura of confidence 
     and there is the faintest hint of a Russian accent in her voice.

The woman dresses in a fairly neat clothes, consisting of a pair of black pants
     and a flattering red top. A heavy thigh-length black leather jacket 
     protects the woman from the cold, complete with a fur-lined hood.

(Shadow Lord PB: 4)

Emma grins slightly at Stacey, "Not all the shifting about here is bad
     shifting-.." she is cut off as Vera enters, bobbing her head slightly, 
     "Evening Vera-rhya." Then a returned look to Grey, "I was a little 
     surprised by Leslie's outburst too. But at least she had the control to 
     leave it as a voice."

Grey's body language tightens when Vera announces herself, though since he was
     tense already, the effect is subtle. He dips his bearded chin in wordless 
     but respectful greeting, eyes dropping briefly to the floor. Then he turns 
     his attention to Emma and nods slightly, still frowning. "She spoke once. 
     No disobedience or wasting time in argument. I'd let it pass."

Stacey gives Vera as polite a smile as she can summon. "Hello, Vera-rhya."
     Otherwise, she remains silent, glancing from Grey to Emma.

Vera tilts her head to one side, curiosity evident. "May I enquire as to what
     you are talking about?"

Emma nods to Grey. "It just surprised me. I had heard she was a real stickler."
     She glances then to Vera. "The Revel. There was a matter of disobedience. 
     Which, as soon as I find one, I will take to the judges to deal with."

Grey, despite his natural reticence around the Adren Shadow Lord, is willing to
     supply details. "Wrong Way and Masao of the Bone Gnawers disobeyed direct 
     orders and had to be rescued."

Stacey nods her agreement with the others. "I was not there, myself, but spoke
     to Masao about it today."

Vera frowns, expression becoming one of concern. "I see. There was Challenge
     against your decisions during the battle?"

Emma nods briefly. "I called that the banes which had entered the area, and
     then turned to run, not be chased." The words come out short and clipped 
     from the Ahroun, eyes heavy as she glances only briefly to Vera, before 
     ensuring that heated gaze does not get misdirected.

Grey moves over to stand near where Emma is sitting, and again, the Glass
     Walker adds details. "We were still in the middle of fighting Pattern 
     Spiders, and more were coming in."

Stacey folds her hands in her lap, watching and listening, but not commenting
     for now.

Vera scowls openly now, looking more then a little disgruntled. "Who?"

Emma unpinches her lips, "Wrong Way, and Masao." Her eyes flicker to Grey, a
     flickering of some guarded emotion hidden in that short glance. "Both 
     Blackriver and Leslie were there, as for Philodox. But I will take it 
     officially to them tomorrow."

Grey simply nods.

Stacey nods as well, frowning slightly as her gaze shifts from Emma to the
     Shadow Lord.

Vera sighs softly, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Going to
     the Philodox is a very good idea. Tell me, what Tribes?"

Emma clears her throat. "Both of the Gnawers. Grey tells me he'd heard that
     Wrong Way is a feral... she's the three legged one. She's also Fostern." 
     Her grimace returns, "Which puts me in an akward spot. Masao I believe is 
     still fairly newly rited?" she glances to Stacey for confirmation.

Grey grunts. "Feral and Fostern, which, as I said, means she more than anyone
     should have /know better/. Emma was Wyrmfoe and warleader. The Litany is 
     pretty damned clear."

Stacey nods to Emma, saying only, "Fairly new, I suppose."

Vera shakes her head. "Rank is unimportant in these situations. You were
     Wyrmfoe... No Leader may be Challenged in a time of War. I'm certain that 
     the Philodox will deal with the issue appropriately and quickly." The last 
     is tacked on with an annoyed grumble.

Emma nods her head. "One can hope," is mumbled without thought before the
     Ahroun clenches her lips together. "I think I'll go get some air." A hand 
     rubs over her forehead to push her hair back as she stands up. "I'll see 
     you guys around." Each is given a small nod, though Grey's is tinged with 
     gratitude, before the Get turns for the door.

Grey returns Emma's nod. "Be seeing you."

Stacey nods, watching as the Get begins to leave. "Take care, Emma. See ya
     around."

"Be well," Vera says in farewell, watching as Emma leaves.

Grey looks thoughtful for a moment, his eyes narrowed, and then says, "I
     probably ought to be heading off as well."

Stacey looks up to the Walker, then nods. "All right. Gaia guard your steps,
     Grey. And good luck with the new pack!"

Vera slides her hands into her pockets, regarding the remaining two Garou for a
     moment. "Aside from those not heeding the Litany, I hope that the Revel 
     went well."

Grey grunts. "I would say it did, though I doubt we made much of a lasting
     dent. That land is going to be developed, and tearing down a few webs 
     won't change things."

Stacey raises a brow. "I'm going to have to track down a Galliard to learn more
     about what happened. The details I've heard are sketchy. Is this land near 
     the bawn?"

Vera frowns, then nods after a moment. "I see. Perhaps action should be taken
     in the Realm as well as the Umbra. Good evening, Grey of the _Glass 
     Walkers_."

"Talk to Dillen," Grey advises the Child of Gaia. "He was there." Vera gets a
     squint from him, mouth twitching into a deeper frown; a second later he 
     gives her a stiff nod and departs.