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08 March 2008 @ 04:07 pm
In which Dusty makes her intentions known to the Sept Alpha  
After briefly flitting through town earlier in the year, Dusty decides to "get serious" about making herself at home in St. Claire. Which includes joining the sept.

Bawn: Foothills of the Mountains(#2986RA)
The hills that rise here are roughened by the frequent rains, and rocky places show through the grasses and shrubs that grown in the clearings. Trees grow as often from shallow soil on rocky hillocks as from real loam. Occassional boulders show through like the bones of ancient creatures, covered with spreading patches of moss and lichen. The land is rough, and the weight of the ancient hills gives the place a chilling quality. The stones seem to resent intrusion.
No visible delimiter marks the eastern edge of the Bawn, only scent-marks and occasional scratches on trees. To the west, the hills become softer and the covering forest thicker, while to the east, the rocky slopes of the foothills become mountainous in truth, and the tree cover thins. I-90 to the north and the railroad to the south provide the remaining edges to this region.
Obvious exits:
Two Eagles Bluff Silent Valley South North East Thunder Cave West

Culls-The-Herd is a prime example of what a timber wolf should be. A thick and impressive coat of pure black fur covers her frame from nose to tail without any variation. The Shadow Lord is roughly five feet in length from nose to bushy tail tip and carries herself with an aristocratic air of confidence.

Medicine Bag

Culls-The-Herd is lounging near the edge of her pack's territory, stretched out on her side. Prominent belly bulging and betraying her pregnancy.

Silver-Steeled makes her way through the trees, her progress slow as she pauses continuously to sniff at rock and animal prints. She seems to be searching for something in particular, hardly stealthy. Her searching makes her unaware of the Shadow Lord at the moment, though her path takes her closer.

Culls-The-Herd lifts her head, ears swiveling to track the movement of the other wolf. After rolling on to her belly, she chuffs out a greeting.

Silver-Steeled snaps her own head back, then extends it toward Culls-the-Herd, nose working hard. An ear splays back briefly as she recognizes the scent that prominently marks the area, and she chuffs back pleasantly, moving closer but respectfully keeping a body's length away from the other. This one thinks she has been searching for you.

Culls-The-Herd yawns, showing off every tooth in her head. Yes? What can I help you with?

Silver-Steeled is known as Dusty, or ~Spirit-Steeled-in-Silver.~ Descendant of the silent ones of the sands, and talesinger, first rank. She comes from the ~Sept of the Green,~ where she had packed under Weasel. Her eyes flit to the other wolf's belly, and she tends to glance about the other without actually looking her in the eyes. She is seeking the alpha of the area, to request joining the pack at large.

Culls-The-Herd's ears flick back, the forward again. Why? Perhaps not the response that the Strider was looking form. Normally, your kind just come and go.

Silver-Steeled paws at the ground with one foreleg, clearly caught off-guard by the question. This is true. For this particular Strider, she has never known what it means to stand still for a moment. There are many experiences gained by exploring new areas, which she does not grow tired of. But this is routine, and she feels there is benefit in truly understanding how to call a place home. She would like to make her services have more impact in a single ~sept~ than it has in her brief stays at various.

Culls-The-Herd tilts her head to one side. You have a cub here. Did you know that? Wolf born.

Silver-Steeled was unaware. She had visited the area a few moons ago and at the time was informed by Mouse that there were no other Striders. Her ear ticks questioningly, wondering if there are others of her kind. With a concerned whine she notes is often difficult for their cubs to find teachers.

Culls-The-Herd's ears lay back, then press forward once again. There is a feathered Metis Theurge and a Ragabash, that I am aware of. Aside from the wolf-born cub. A Philodox, I believe.

Something about the mention of the cub has agitated the galliard, her tail swishing sharply behind her. If the wolf standing before Silver-Steeled is indeed the alpha of the area, the Strider would be obliged if she were allowed to participate in the wolf-born's training.

Culls-The-Herd's ears splay in amusement. It is your Tribe's cub. You don't need my permission to teach her. So, you wish to give Chiminage. What will you offer this Sept?

Silver-Steeled ducks her head briefly on the subject of the cub. Is that puppyish embarrassment in her gesture? She straightens, expelling a short breath. This one has only recently become acquainted with the area, and is not familiar at the moment with current events, she admits bluntly. There are rites she is willing to teach to those interested. There is a much longer pause, and the greeness of her cliath rank is that much more obvious. She may seek permission to learn more of current situations where her services in battle or otherwise would be a boon, and could be offered alongside sharing rites.

Culls-The-Herd yawns, jaws cracking wide. Of course. You are a Silent Strider. Consider yourself a Guest of this Sept.

Silver-Steeled's tail flicks amiably and seems ready to depart before she adds that she that her new half-brother does not react to the Rage within her, and suspects that he may carry ~Garou~ blood. Would Culls-the-Herd have another to recommend for performing the rite of baptism to confirm?

Culls-The-Herd's ears flip back briefly. Talk to the feathered Metis.

Silver-Steeled will do so, and adds may Gaia bless you with a healthy litter. She then dips her head before turning and padding off in the direction she came, soon lost to view in the foliage.

Culls-The-Herd flops back down on to her side and resumes her nap.