It was sunset of the Full Sprouting Grass Moon; the appointed time of the sept moot. The place was Moshup’s Footprint, also known as the Devil’s Hopyard. This moot was unusual. Welcoming a new pup as a full member of the sept was rare. That five of them, enough to comprise a new pack, were becoming Cliath at the same time defied odds. What would a new pack do to the balance of the three existing packs?

The high trails was surrounded by woods with little underbrush. It descended down to the rest of the park and offered glimpses of the large swamp to the left. At one point there was a clearing by the cliff edge. There stood a wooden sign placed by a wooden fence guarding the edge. From here there was a good view of the swamp and the valley and the canopy of the forest ahead on the trail.

Six wolves were present in the clearing. A large one with sleek silver fur circled keeping an eye to the woods beyond. A gnarled wolf without fur had a mouthful of its own tail as it laid in the dirt. It showed no signs of distress and seemed content. Another wolf in silver pelt head butted the furless one eliciting a yelp of surprise. A red furred wolf, twice as big as any wolf deserved to be, was draped across a branch a few yards up a tree facing up the high trail. It licked at the back of the tree. The last two wolves, also different in fur patterns and color, faced off and growled at each other. One faced down the trail and the other faced all the others standing in the middle of the trail. The later’s ear was pierced with a golden hoop.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:12, Thu 10 Aug 2023.

While others came in by road, Sierra had been stalking the woods for some time and was now resting under trees in the woods. She hadn't really felt like interacting with these folks from the new Caern just yet, though she'd been lectured by her elder brothers plenty about how things should go, what to do, what not to do and all that.

The red wolf with amber eyes got up, stretched and yawned, and then started padding quietly through the woods to where the commotion was, crouching down and observing the scene before her quietly, making notes of where folks were, what they were doing... obviously she wasn't in a hostile situation, at least not that she could discern, else she'd have been far more careful. Right now she was just trying to figure out what she was letting herself in for.

The six wolf pack was not the only ones in the woods. While one pack had gone out to get libations for the moot, another stayed to protect the caerns, and he was left to be watched by the third. Dolus was huddled beneath a squat evergreen, letting natures shadows help him stay out of sight, his dark fur making him just so much more shadow. Positioned to be downwind of the Watchtower's members, it afforded him a little extra distance, a nice respite from the constant hounding of the human kinfolk and their poor ears and nose. Stay in sight! Don't wander off! You don't want to get caught, do you? Ugh.

Although this lupus body felt so much smaller, anything but his true nature did, it had its advantages. The keen senses certainly were one. He could hear the conversations down at the parking lot, having to piece together some of the words, but the tones were clear, amusement, derision, welcome and greeting, the usual level of snark. There were a few new voices, uncertain, young, like him. Maybe they'd be part of the welcome, too. It was almost too close when the rustle of grasses caught his attention, followed with the scent of a stranger. Hunkering lower, he lets out a low growl, a soft wuff and snort. "Who are you? Why did you come to this place, to this territory?"

No mention of it being his, he had no rights to it to speak of. But he still had a duty to ask, and he supposed greet any who would come this way.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:26, Thu 10 Aug 2023.

The two wolves facing off circled each other as they continued to growl. There were added aggressions with feint, clawing at the earth, and bites at the air. The other wolves continued what they were doing taking no significant notice. The dire wolf in the tree lazily looked back at the interaction then rolled its eyes before looking back in the direction it was guarding.

Both aggressive wolves took a moment to note their number had increase. The one down trail took the chance to try to nip the hindquarters of the other, but was thwarted by an acorn in the eye flicked by the hairless wolf. It snapped and growled toward the assailant, who for his part continued to lick his own tail as if nothing happened. The wolf scratched into the dirt several symbols and turned to leave back down the trail.

"I am Sierra Seventh-Paw, and I have come to the Twin Giants because I have crossed over the Bridge. This place is.. will be, no doubt, my home. But who are you to huff and crouch at me so, stranger?" She replied in a low, Irish-accented voice. She was trying her best to not garner too much attention, as she was not fully Cliath. Not yet, at least. She could be herself when that was all said and done, assuming it would be.

But that being said, she noticed one of the wolves heading back down the trail, and focused her eyes on the signs he'd scratched into the dirt, if they were within her sight range. Maybe it was an insult, or another challenge.. or something else entirely.

Another snort, one with less snark, more amusement, jaw opening in a half-friendly panting, the pale gray fangs visible in the shadows under the tree marking where he was. "The welcoming party, so to speak. I am Dolus Shattered-Smile, and if the spirits see fit, this place where I live will also be my home." He takes a deep draw of her scent as it drifts downwind, as well as the surrounding area. Cigarette butts, gas fumes, cheap cologne on one of the Hammers, but not finding any other intrusive scents.

He crawls out from the squat tree, giving a hard shake to get the dried needles off his ebon-black coat, releasing a plume of evergreen reek that drifts away, leaving the fragrance of dulled tinge of incense, sweat, stress, and a cavalcade of other werewolves coming off him. Clearly a muddle to hide his own scent, though the anxiety is definitely his, but otherwise it seems to have worked for the moment. "Come on, it seems the rest are down by the road with the others. You might as well give a proper introduction to the others down the way."

The dire wolf kept off the tree and gave a passing glance at Sierra and Dolus. The other wolves gathered around the marking. The hairless wolf snorted and lead the others down trail. As they lead a line down towards the meeting place it became easier to see what was scratched on the ground. It was the Garou ritual symbol for South.

The air was fragrant blossoming honeysuckle. It was crisp with the cool dryness so typical of early spring. Layering on top were wafts of the pungent night blooming flowers of the swamp below. The clouds were absent letting the nascent night hint at the earliest stars. The waterfall babbled in the distance laying a hushing blanket of white noise across the forest. Only the rhythmic beat of drums carried from elsewhere. It too was nestled under the sounds of water.

The dirt of the clearing and trail was just that. Not the healthy soil filled with perchicore that lay all about; the remnants of rotting leaves. Instead the trail consisted of packed dirt with numerous small worn rocks poking through the more eroded areas. The ground  itself was creased where years of rainfall had carved into the compacted dirt.

The forest thickened as the elevation decreased. The sounds of drums and smell of burning pitch grew greater. Sinkholes were seen to the sides of the trails. The hairless wolf did his best using his vocal tract as it was to hum “Party in the USA”. Movement of sounds and shadows suggested a dozen individuals ahead.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:32, Mon 14 Aug 2023.

Dolus gave a look at the scratch rune and gave a sniff, shaking his head a bit. He picked up after the actual pack, looking behind at Sierra. "You've travelled far, hmm? Think you can handle travelling a little more? It's not far, promise."

He kept to the trails, the hard dirt and rock path leaving little physical mark of their paws and claws, with the practice of one who had walked them many times. Paced, snuck along, peeked out from, trudged, wandered, demarked, hid upon, slinked, cowered, patrolled, and so many other methods had he travelled these trails in the last two years. It was familiar, but still wasn't his. Nothing was his here, not really. But he kept an air of mellow confidence, tail low but wagging as he followed the Watchtower pack.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:27, Mon 14 Aug 2023.

Sierra tilted her head a little, looking at the rune herself and nodding. "I'm perfectly content travelling some more, aye! I mean.. what was it they said about that St. Patrick fella?" She gave a toothy grin, that Celtic, Galliard charm showing ever so slightly.

"Seems like I'm not the only musically inclined one around here..." She nodded in the direction of the hairless wolf, walking alongside Dolus. She wasn't as stealthy as her new compatriot, but she was at least quiet, careful and respectful of her station. She'd never hear the end of it from her siblings if she wasn't.

The hairless wolf falls back to Sierra and Dolus. ”It really annoys Snarls-with-Claws. I figure if I am enough of a pain in his ass it might dislodge the stick he has shoved up there.” He nods towards the confrontational wolf that was now leading the group to the caern. “He hate Metis and Homids but he has been working on it. He has been making progress.”

”Behind him is our pack zedakh , Mary Claws-the-Moon.” The wolf in question was lean but muscular with a pelt of silver. She moved with purpose and power, keeping speed with the lead wolf only following a half length behind in deference. Yet she showed no cowing or obeisance to Snarls-with-Claws, just polite respect.

”Behind her is our uldakh Jo-Ann Crashes-the-Server. She is really smart and can make rocks think and talk.” Jo-Ann had a more lithe wiry form. She slinked more than loped. Her fur pattern was brindled and gave no feel of a specific origin. Unlike her leader, who looked straight ahead, she looked from side to side and listened. As she followed she would gently weave from side to side like she was lazily sewing up the trail.

”Just behind her is our bard, Meagan Climbing-Vine. She is being characteristically quiet right now. You should like her,”, he said as he nodded at Sierra. She was huge compared to the others. She was easily the size of a full grown horse. Meagan loped with a relaxed ease except for her ears perked at attention. Her pelt was a thick and wild red. Her eyes were an unusual shade of green.

A silver pelted, if disheveled, wolf wobbled sideways and knocked into the furless wolf that had been doing the introductions. ”And that is our taldakh, Broken-Fangs.” Broken-Fangs turned to pant at the cubs, his fangs and half his teeth were shattered.

Meagan dropped back to the cubs and gave a very human like grin. ”And this small hairless one, he’s our wise spiritual leader, a chaser of spirits and delver of caves, fighter of banes and postal carriers, our Theurge, the great and powerful Eats-the-Paste.” With a snicker she easily loped back to her position in the formation with her long stride.

Ahead in the distance across the river could be seen a clearing by a tall rock face. A bonfire rages and crackled. Around it were several garou in various forms. Containers of various plants smoldered creating a heady mix of sweet smells. The fires cast shadows against the rock face. On it could be seen a hole in the rock out of which a red wolf decorated in various bones and paints emerged.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:31, Sun 20 Aug 2023.

When the group had properly begun loping deeper into the territory, Dolus took his place in the group, just faintly trailing, even further back than Sierra, oddly enough. He listened to the Bone Gnawer list through their packmates, catching up enough to give a supporting shoulder to the off kilter Silver Fang as he careens off from bumping into Eats. There's a look of kindred sympathy as his own pallid teeth show with a lupine grin before he slips back to join the bareskinned Theurge being the two pups' guide. "They're good folks, keeping this region very safe. The Kinfolk I've listened to are grateful for their vigilance."

As they drew closer, his tail raised and wagged a bit more with each stride, the scents filling his head swirling with ritual and rightness.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:33, Mon 21 Aug 2023.

Sierra let out a grunt that sounded more like a chuckle than anything of distaste when Meagan came back to introduce Eats-the-Paste. She had similar fur and eyes to her, but her size was easily two or three times Sierra's own. Her tail wagged a bit as the "bard" went back to her position, making a note to talk to her at some point about.. well, Galliard things.

As they approached the bonfire, she looked over to Dolus. "An interesting group, to be sure! But it looks like we are at our destination... and the festivities are in full swing! Oh, how I've missed this! The smells, the sounds! It's taking everything I have to stay put instead of running to join them right now!"

Dolus snorted his own amusement at the eager wolf, head shaking as a small fleck of enamel patters into the forest detritus. "Oh, this is only the start. Wait until the awakened drinks start coming out, then the adults start telling the most fascinating stories. Big ears are good for us to have."