"I hate to say it... it sounds damn' boastful... but, well. I am the Chosen of Falcon."

Farmhouse: Kitchen and Dining Room
Homey is the first word to come to mind when looking at the farmhouse's kitchen. Dark, wood-paneled wainscoting covers the walls to about waist height, dark beige wallpaper continuing to the ceiling. Twin refrigerators occupy the north wall, facing the large six-burner stove on the south. The kitchen counter runs the length of the eastern wall, broken only by the double-basin sink. Cabinets run above and below the counter and a twin-pane window is set in the wall above the sink. A small pantry is set into an alcove alongside the refrigerators, presumably holding the deep freezer as well as shelves of dry goods.
Some twelve feet above the floor, a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling, lighting the dining room and casting long shadows over the bar to the kitchen. A long table occupies the center of the dining room, three chairs setting along each side, and one on each end. On the west wall, a large window looks out on the trees alongside the western pasture. Set into the north wall is a large cabinet, its glass doors closed on shelves containing a full compliment of fine china and glassware as well as a few decorative nicknacks. On the east, a wide bar separates the dining room from the kitchen.
An opening in the southern wall allows passage to the front entryway of the house, while a sliding glass door in the kitchen opens to a clearing behind the house.

The rural peace surrounding the farmhouse is shattered this September lunchtime by the roar of an engine and the sound of gravel from the drive being flung aside by swiftly turning wheels, both audible inside the farmhouse, not to mention outside. There's a squeal of tires, a screech of brakes, and the engine is turned off. If Laura looks through the kitchen window she'll see a yellow sports car parked up in the barnyard at a jaunty angle; and whether or not she does, within a few seconds an equally jaunty knock sounds at the back door.

All thoughts of a quiet cup of tea are quickly dismissed as stones fly and rubber is burned outside. The Fury, previously just turning to pick the whistling kettle off of the stove, instead turns about to face the window. Before she investigates that strange glimpse of yellow, the knock comes. The woman takes a moment to straighten herself then walks to the back door, leaving the kettle howling. "Hello?" she asks as she sets a hand on the sliding door.

A gleam of smiling teeth almost shines through the crack in the door which Laura opens cautiously. "Hello, there!" comes a voice from behind the teeth. "Do I have the right place? Are you... ahem... a friend of Stacey's?"

"I am," Laura confirms, stepping back and aside and opening the door further. "Come in. She isn't here right now, if it's specifically her you're looking for." She glances at the kettle, then walks over to take it off of the stove.

"No, she wouldn't be," the man agrees. "I would expect her job keeps her from visiting very often." He raises one eyebrow to Laura in a signal that his words have an extra meaning. "I'm really after another friend of hers named Vera, or a woman whom I understand they call Black River?"

Laura pours the boiling water into the teapot, then pulls a cloth satchel from her pocket. She dumps the contents into the pot. "I haven't seen either. The latter prefers walks in the woods, though. She may be more difficult to locate than Vera." She turns about, her eyes slightly unfocusing, her nostrils flaring slightly.

"Again, I'd expect no less," drawls the man. "Oh, to blazes with this charade. You quite plainly know why I'm here. My name is Cedric Ambermere, and I'm here to join you." He thrusts out his hand in a vigorous movement towards Laura as she turns.

"Good." Laura shakes the hand firmly, then steps past to shut the door. "My name is Laura, Theurge of the Black Furies. Elder to my tribe and daughter of Great Wolverine, in the pack called Havoc." She rattles off the introduction quickly, already heading for the teapot again. "Tea?"

Cedric gives Laura's hand a squeeze that's firm but not too firm, for just the right length of time. "I'd murder for a cup," he declares. "In full, I am Strikes-as-Fast-as-Lighting-From-a-Clear-Sky, fostern and galliard of the Silver Fangs, and... whoa. Havoc? You're one of Clemency's packmates?"

Laura nods in response, pulling the necessities for a civilized cuppa from the cupboards and fridge. "I am," she states simply, pouring her own cup and offering one to the elder. "She's gone to Falcon, a few months ago," she adds thoughtfully, stirring some honey into her tea.

"I spoke to her cousin," Cedric says in a slightly strained voice. "It was she who suggested my leadership skills might be needed her now that Clemency is fallen." He takes the offered cup and stares into it as though reading tea-leaves, despite it being still full. "My destiny," he goes on, "has led me halfway round the world, and may lead further yet, but... we shall have to see." He half-turns his head and gives a little rueful smile to empty air.

"I don't know the state the Silver Fangs are in. Blackriver is their elder, and I've heard here and there that there might be new cubs in the tribe." Sipping to test the taste of her drink, Laura nods to herself. "What does your destiny speak of, or is it something between yourself and the spirits?"

Cedric looks back to Laura. "I didn't just mean the tribe," he explains. "From what I hear your sept, though strong, is not unified. I can help with that. Yes," he says, finally taking an appreciative sip of his tea. "That's my destiny, you see. I hate to say it... it sounds damn' boastful... but, well. I am the Chosen of Falcon." Cedric gives Laura a rueful, abashed smile.

Laura's eyes narrow, but her smile quirks up at the edges. "Something I've never heard of. How does one become the Chosen of Falcon?" she asks, studying the Silver Fang again. "And what does it mean, aside from all of those qualities associated with your noble totem?"

Cedric rubs at his fine, dark gold hair distractedly. "It isn't a tribal post or anything," he explains, still seeming somewhat shy. "It's a literal thing. Falcon came to me, told me I was His chosen one to reunite the Garou and lead us back to glory and triumph over the darkness of the Wyrm, and gave me His guide to lead and accompany me. I don't expect this to be an easy role to fulfil, or a quick one, but it is my calling and I follow it." His face tilts up a little and his chin points towards Laura in an expression of the firmness of his resolve.

Laura's back straightens a little in response and she crosses her arms. "Then I hope Falcon has judged well," she finally says, having another long drink of tea. "Especially in sending you to this place. You know, I imagine, at least some of the history of this caern and this state?"

"Not as much as I'd like to," Cedric replies, pulling out a chair for himself with a raised eyebrow to Laura that invites her to forbid him to sit if she wishes, or perhaps if she dares. "As a galliard, I'm always more than ready to hear a good tale, though."

Laura instead makes a gracious motion with one hand, no sense of denial about it. "I'm no Galliard. All I can tell is what I have heard and what I was told. My best friend...well, she was, at one time. She told me plenty of what there was to know. So. What can I fill in for you?" She pours herself more tea, then takes a seat opposite the fostern.

"Let's see," Cedric drawls as he sits back and lids his eyes in thought. "Caern lay dormant for the longest damn' time up till '90 or so. Since then, been a real pick-n-mix of the tribes ever since. Spirals took it once, briefly, then got kicked back out. Know a few names of my tribe from up here... Justice, and Brittany, and... mm... Velia was it?"

"May have been," Laura says with a shrug. "Originally the caern was a Wendigo caern, the Wheel. They would know more of what happened to lay it to rest the first time, but I believe a great beast came and killed them. Then it was reopened by Garou of several tribes, and ever since it's been that way. It was the Wheel Renewed for some time, until it became the Hidden Walk when a new totem spirit replaced the old. Before the Spirals took it, the caern totem was Fog. When we reclaimed it, the totem became Chimera." She taps her nails on the table, then continues. "If names are important, I can tell you of Tobin, a student and great friend of mine, and Wilbur Wright, my respected equal. I met Brittany once...and there was Brigid, whose life I saved. Others may know more about Jana and the others...They're just a few of your tribemates who've walked here."

"Wilbur Wright, Wilbur Wright," Cedric muses. "That name rings a bell too. Even in this sad age, there are still too many members of the First Tribe for one galliard to remember the name and deeds of every second cousin twice removed across an ocean. Which I suppose we should take as heartening." He gives Laura another of his little smiles. "And by the looks of you, would I be right in guessing that there may be one more Black Fury on her way?"

"You would." The woman touches her side briefly. "Another sign not everything is lost. I suppose you haven't had time to cool your heels and start a family, or has Falcon asked that of you?" Laura sips at her tea, reaching for the pot to warm it up.

Cedric smiles more broadly at that. "If I have left any little Fangs behind me in my travels, I don't know about it. I won't say it's impossible," he concedes with an airy wave of his hand. "I'll be honest enough... especially to a Fury... to admit that my predestined path as a wanderer does grant me the fringe benefit -- if benefit it be -- of being impossible to tie down. I don't have a girl in quite every port, but there's been a few."

Laura's eyebrow rises slightly. "I can't say I approve, but I won't tear into you for it. I'm not your mother, I'm not the tribesmate who'll have to pick up after the Change. If we didn't need more Garou, though..." She shakes a finger at him, but there's a slight smile backing it up. "Tsk tsk."

"I neither expected nor requested your approval," Cedric responds with perfect smoothness. "But you asked, so I answered. It is a Galliard's job to pass on information when asked, surely?" He sips tea genteelly. "In my defence, ma'am, I should perhaps say that to my knowledge, none of my paramours..." He pauses there a moment as though mentally checking something, then resumes. "...have been kin to Garou of my tribe or any other."

Laura nods. "Mm. Of course, and that is your business." She inclines her head to him, then sits back. "So where were you last? California? Seems we see more than enough from there."
Cedric shakes his head. "I've driven across country from the South," he says. "And before that, down from Canada. Stopped off at several septs for brief spells, and at two for a year or more each, since I left England. And no, I'm not renouncing to Strider," he quips. "Are you from hereabouts originally, Laura?"

"Canada, actually. Quebec, to be further specific. Spent my formative years around the Wendigo in Northern Quebec, then came here awhile, went back and then came back here. Whereabouts in Canada were you?" Laura offers him the teapot to freshen his cup.

Cedric finishes his cup and pours himself a second. "Near Toronto, mostly," he replies. "Couple of hours' drive north-east of it. A sept led by Shadow Lords. It was odd," he says with an almost nostalgic look on his face. "They started by giving me the frozen shoulder, then graduated to keeping me around like some kind of mascot or pet, then by the end they respected me enough that they looked up to me and gave me an artefact of the sept, even. I could have stayed, but they were on the right path, and Falcon called me on once more."

Laura cants her head to one side. "An artefact? A fetish, or something else?" She leans her elbows on the table, resting her chin on the palm of one hand.

"A klaive," Cedric replies in the most studiedly casual manner, as though a klaive were part of every well-dressed garou's everyday wardrobe these days.

Laura's hand drops to her thigh. "A klaive?" she repeats, now staring at the Silver Fang. "You carry a klaive? Which one?" She glances down, as though she'll see it through the table.

Cedric can't suppress his look of pride. "It was given to me by Rubin Vadascovinich, ~Life-Out-of-Death~, a Shadow Lord, as I said. He told me that though none but Shadow Lords had ever held it before, he saw it as his duty to surrender it to me as I was the only garou he had ever met who deserved to wield such a blade. Its name is..." He lifts his hand to his mouth, concealing a smile perhaps or a grimace, hard to tell. "...is hard to pronounce. To one who speaks no Serbian."

Laura leans back in her seat and gives the Silver Fang a look of admiration. "Impressive. More than that. You must be very impressive as a leader as well as a warrior to have earned such an honor," she says, inclining her head slightly to him. "We're honored to have you and that which you carry with us."

"I can show you if you wish," Cedric offers. "Though as a visitor to this sept who has yet to even agree chiminage, far less perform any, I will not carry silver into the presence of another garou unless specifically invited and permitted. What kind of service would usually be seen as chiminage here?" he asks, as though the mention of the subject has reminded him of this question. "And is it organised by tribal elders or by the sept elder?"

"Tribal elders take care of chiminage. I know that some have had to do guard-work as chiminage, others were to teach rites, some were to perform rites. I was asked to instruct a cub in the Ways of my tribe," Laura rattles off, still starstruck at mention of the klaive Cedric carries. "I won't ask to see the klaive until you're a septmate."

"Suffice to say," Cedric declares, "that within reason I shall be glad to perform any task, service, or education. Rites are not a strong point with me, but between spirits and other garou, I have picked up various gifts; perhaps I can teach some. Your packmate Thomas Grey suggested that the city over yonder badly needs some attention," he goes on, "whereas the bawn's edges seem well guarded. My howl of introduction was very soon answered by a young cliath named Walks-Middle who asked me all the right questions. Although she could not test me for the Wyrm. Do you know of one who can, apart from Blackriver?"

Laura smiles slightly. "I already have, or else I wouldn't have been quite so loose with the information I've given you. I will tell the Guardians and anyone else who needs to know that I've checked you, and I state that you are untainted by the enemy's touch." She stands, then tucks her chair back under the table. "But for now, I should visit my son. If I meet those you need to speak with on the way, I'll tell them you're looking for them."

Cedric lifts his teacup in salute to Laura. "Be well, Fury. Do I have permission to remain here meantime?"

"You do." And with that, Laura turns and exits the building, hurrying off to parts unknown.