11/8/2002 01:42 PM Logfile from Cutter. Challenge of the Century Characters: Cutter, Strongbow, Gentlestorm, Snowstorm, Sandstorm, and Ynderra Synopsis: Strongbow challenges Cutter's decision to allow Snowstorm and Ashi into the holt if even for the duration of a storm. The sun sinks below the horizon and night begins to settle over LostHolt. The breeze, which has been gentle all day has begun to pick up, carrying with it the heavy scent of impending rain. The clouds obscuring the eastern stars, coupled with the flickers and grumbles of lightning and thunder also herald the shift in the weather. Cutter saunters back toward the father tree after having spent some time talking to their newest visitors; at the end of which, he invited them into the holt proper. Now, followed by at least three of the visiting party, he pauses at the top of the hill and frowns at the approaching storm. **That one's going to be a rough storm from the looks of it... ** he sends almost absently, **Perhaps you should shift your things to the denning cave tonight instead of waiting til morning.** The only indication of the archer's approach is the scent that is borne upon the growing wind and the send of urgency he places to the tribe. In particular he is searching for Redlance or Ynderra...the plantshapers. He has left his post where he was guarding the new arrivals, but as he drops down from a branch on the Hill, Strongbow freezes. They're here. Inside -his- Holt! ** No. ** he growls, eyes narrowed and hands twitching, as if wanting to take the bow from across his shoulder and be rid of the interlopers. Gentlestorm looks up at the sky, frowning a bit, ** Maybeso, ** he replies to Cutter. His eyes slide over to his mother as if asking a question of her. ** I'll follow Mother and Djhala's lead on that one. >From what I do know of storms though, I'd tend to agree with you. ** He shrugs. ** Thank you for allowing us into your tribe. ** His eyes turn as he sees his grandsire approach. Snowstorm's lips tighten as she hears the archer's send. She knows exactly why he said that and who is responsible for such an . . . unwelcomed greeting. For once, the mazed elf only pulls the young one closer to her body, protecting him from . . . something. Strongbow's anger maybe. Deciding to be prepared for the worst, she lifts the cub into her arms even though he is rather large for such a thing and holds him. Her entire attitude screams of willingness to leave and determination to protect her cub. ** I will leave. I have no wish to be in a place where I will cause strife. I came to HELP but leaving and helping the old troll in other ways is possible as well. ** She looks from Cutter to Strongbow and back again. Sandstorm blinks, surprised at being hauled up against his mother. The cub, before she grabbed him and picked him up had been going to go to the archer but froze upon a harshly sent no. For a moment he resists the restraining hands then, realizing that something is alarming Snowstorm, he stops resisting and watches. Cutter's expression shifts from concern about their tent's ability to hold up to a good storm to guarded as he turns to regard the incensed archer. His cerulean eyes, normally warm and open become guarded as he entire body tenses visably, **I see no threat from any of them, StrongBow.** he sends frankly and openly. Standing at his full height, his eyes look first to Snowstorm, then to Gentlerock...and then to the youngest. ** The cub can stay. No one else. ** A defiant glance is given to his older great-grandson before it is turned on Cutter. Let him try to budge the archer on this...and just wait until he hears the elder's reason. A nod is directed towards Snowstorm, ** She was already exiled once...what reason do you have for lifting that? ** A hand then points at Gentlestorm, as direct as any arrow he might shoot, ** His lifemate tried to destroy the forest. Go to their camp. She killed an area of the forest because - she didn't like it-! ** His send roils with pent up anger and frustration...and yes, disappointment that his great-grandson would choose a mate who would do that. The elder-grandson's eyes widen with two other pair of silver eyes. All three elves look at each other wondering what the Go-Back half breed plantshaper did THIS time. Gentlestorm shakes his head, ** I must've been out hunting. I certainly didn't see her. Nonetheless, I suppose that now I am to be held accountable for someone else's actions? ** His face doesn't show the disgust he feels concerning that concept. ** If that is so, I guess I am accountable for my mother's actions long ago when I was a cub not old enough to do anything about it. ** He shrugs at Strongbow. Snowstorm gives her eldest a sharp look and shakes her head. The cub in her arms looks from elf to elf, saying and sending nothing. Cutter turns to Snowstorm with a frown on his face, **Is this true?** he asks hoping against hope that that really isn't the truth of the matter. He then listens to Gentlestorm's send and shakes his head, "You were never held accountable for Snowstorm's actions.** and that's the absolute truth of it. He hated having to see the cub go then and it is evident in his send. Accountability, is it? ** You brought her into the forest yet you didn't tell her not to harm it? ** And this elf is of -his- blood? Oh, wait until Moonshade hears about this. Strongbow crosses his arms at his chest, his dark gaze moving from his kin to his chief, ** You are still letting them stay? ** The cub, of course, is welcome. He has done nothing...in fact, it's rather obvious that Strongbow wants to get him away from the other influences. Not necessarily Gentlestorm's influence, but that of his lifemate and mother. Snowstorm looks at Cutter, mentally sighing, for she has long sense ceased speaking in any way. ** I was not there when Ashi did this. I have had to challenge her myself when I held the position of chieftess of the Jackwolfriders in Sorrow's End. I haven't a clue what is wrong with that crazy Go-Back! I assure you that WHEN I get back and WHEN I see her she and I will have a . . . DISCUSSION . . . ** The ominous meaning behind THAT is not necessarily understood; however, what IS understood is that Snowstorm knows something about Ashi . . . and has dealt with her before. ** She is a plantshaper and can and will repair her own mess. ** She looks at her son, daring him to comment on that. ** And if she doesn't behave, I suggest you make the same promise to her as you did to me, MY SON. ** The last is somewhat hissed and Snowstorm's eyes narrow. Gentlestorm dryly sends, ** Elder, I can tell her, AND YOU for that matter what I will. NEITHER of you is obligated to heed what I say if you do not wish it. Each elf is accountable for his own actions and choices. ** To Snowstorm he ascerbicly sends, ** So it seems I SHALL, Mother. ** Fury is reflected in his gaze as he looks at Snowstorm. Unfortunately, his mother isn't the least affected by this. Her look dismisses him and his complaint in one glance. Walking up towards the top of the hill, at the beckoned call of Strongbow, Ynderra looks dazedly at those gathered here. Narrowing her eyes at the strong worded sends, she waits for a few moments to get a feel of what's happening here. The days have gone quickly, and with her helping Leetah as well as Redlance with the other wrapstuffed visitors she looks hardly in the condition to be part of an argument but still she's here as if waiting to be told why she was called for. Cutter sighs after hearing this and shakes his head. After barely a moment's thought, his send rings out, **After hearing this, Ashi must stay ouside of the holt. If she is willing to destroy the forest, she is not welcome within the trees but, the rest of you may stay.** There is regret in his send but, there is firm resolution as well. Gentlestorm looks at Cutter, nodding, ** Forgive me, Chief, but, I understand your reasoning. I'll stay with her to ... control her. ** He sighs softly, ** She wasn't like this when we first mated. I am hoping to have a healer look at her and have Dja work with her. ** ** No! ** comes from the archer again. Marching up to Cutter he scowls at the shorter chief, ** Has your head gone soft? You yourself banished that elf from the Holt...and now, for no reason you let her in? Is it safe to let a wolf with foaming sickness into the pack? ** Again, he is questioning the chief's authority as elder, grandsire, hunter, and member of the tribe. He has done it before...it is a constant contest between the two. He casts a quick glance at his elder great-grandson, expression softening just a little, but he won't allow it to go very far. The elf chose to lifemate with that one. Perhaps that's his own type of madness. Certainly not from his side. Snowstorm looks at her son, a sympathetic look at her son, knowing that Ashi has changed. ** I will go with you, my son. There are some things that I will do with her that you can not. ** She looks at Cutter with a rueful smile, ** Forgive me, Chief, but I think that in this case, for everyone's safety, I need to go stay at camp outside the holt to help my son. ** She nods her head at Cutter, ** Thank you . . . for trying to give me another chance. ** She looks at Strongbow, ** I still wish you to know your youngest Grandcub; however, he is still young and needs me no matter how you feel about me. Come to camp or I will send Gentlestorm with him. As a gesture, I will try to stay out of the holt unless it is to retrieve my son... because you feel so strongly about it. ** She looks to Cutter, ** If this is well with you? ** Cutter turns back to Strongbow, frowning now, **And if the wolf has been healed of it? What then, Strongbow? Do you leave him out of the pack ever after?** His mind registers Snowstorm's send and he nods in reply, barely sparing a glance at her, **I would prefer if you would stay in the denning cave for the night though....** even as he sends, thunder rumbles and the first few drops of rain begin to patter on newly budding leaves and the small gathering of elves. He does turn to them now, **All of you may stay there until this storm passes... but, afterward, Ashi must leave again.** After all, just because he doesn't like that the elf is willing to harm the forest, doesn't mean that he doesn't have a heart. ** There will be no 'trying' ** is sent at Snowstorm. The archer watches her, his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed at his chest. Rare is the wolf who can return to the tribe after being banished...usually they are just torn to pieces. At the chief's send his head whips around, ** You're as mad as -she- is... ** and he doesn't indicate which 'she' either. ** You'd have that one stay in our Holt and destroy it because she doesn't like how the tree -looks-! ** You sense in a locksend, Strongbow sends a piercing image of Ashi withering grass, bushes, and trees around her...and then of her threatening to destroy all the trees. It's a true memory...and she is very blase about it. Strongbow locksends ** "Too many plants, too many plants," was the muttered litany ensuing from the chagrined plantshaper. It was indeed odd that a plantshaper would at all reject her own subjects, but this one had. No matter, she would simply clear them away. Dropping to the ground on hands and knees, she began to concentrate. Her hands warmed up, energy seeping into the ground and seeking out the foliage that she had taken offense to... which was all around her. Surely enough, the trees, grass and bushes in a growing radius around her began to wither and wilt. She called upon their very life, browning them into weathered and wrinkled versions of their previous vibrance. ** Strongbow locksends ** Arrows or no, the Go-back raced for the nearest tree, hands deftly clapsing the trunk. "Last chance. Show yourself or I began killing trees. One by one until you are found." ** Sandstorm starts squirming to get down, angry voices and challenges he has seen before. This one, he notes, is not his mother's challenge, which is good. With a sigh, Snowstorm allows the cub to slide down her body but keeps him close. Her eyes touch her eldest and they flick to the opposite side of Sandy. Fortunately, Gentlestorm is of a mind to listen to his mother's request and he moves over to his sibling's side, kneeling down next to the cub, holding his hand gently in his larger one. Cutter actually growls low in his throat as send magic whips between himself and Strongbow. He bares his teeth in an open snarl, blue eyes darken in anger, and though he is smaller in stature than Strongbow, he takes the brunt of the archer's send without so much as a wince. As if attuned to the conflict growing atop the hill, the wind picks up so that it howls through the branches and the rain begins to fall in ernest. Snowstorm looks from elf to elf and takes Sandstorm firmly by the hand and leads him away. He is a cub and this is not something he should be out in. You locksend ** She will be in a cave.. there is /nothing/ growing within it.. and she will not be permitted to leave the cave until the storm has passed. Then she will be taken back to their camp and left there. ** to Strongbow. You sense in a locksend, Strongbow's anger mounts, his send glowing hotly as it leaves his mind, ** How will you do that? Who will you set to guard in this storm? How can you guarantee she will not reach out with her magic and destroy trees because she doesn't like the leaves blowing in. She doesn't like the smell of them? ** You locksend to Strongbow, Cutter's anger rises to match, **I will guard her myself if need be.** His send is short, curt even. You sense in a locksend, Strongbow's own doesn't taper off at all, ** You could deny her entrance, as you -should-! Then you...then we all could be at peace, not worrying if she will topple the Father Tree on a whim! ** Strongbow turns to lock eyes with his Chief, his lips curling into a snarl as the air between them grows heavy with intense sends. Cutter's gaze is steady, meeting Strongbow's with a level of intensity that is rarely seen within LostHolt. He snarls once again but makes no move. Waves of send magic blast back and forth between the two with an intensity that even a human could feel. You locksend to Strongbow, Cutter sends with a level of clarity and calm within his anger, **Your thoughts are always welcome, Strongbow but, you do not have the weight of the final decision on your shoulders.** You sense in a locksend, Strongbow's sending blazes white hot, ** So you would risk the Holt just to have that final decision? To prove your status in the pack? ** It flares even further, a growl even emerging from his usual silence, ** I WILL NOT HAVE MY HOME DESTROYED AGAIN! ** This is no longer an ordinary argument. The palpability of the sending and the stance that the two elves hold...eyes locked against the other's...it's a miracle they haven't come to blows...yet. Without a sound, Cutter moves into Strongbow's space, acknowledging the challenge for what it is. With gaze and mind locked against the taller elf's, he defends his right to lead. You locksend ** Do you actually think I would allow someone to destroy it again? After we've worked so hard to rebuild it twice now?** ** to Strongbow. Strongbow locksends ** That's what you're doing by letting -her- in. Even in a cave. You're compromising all of us. The Holt. The forest. ** Strongbow doesn't take a step back as the shorter chieftain moves in...instead, an arm reaches out, tense with sinewy muscle, to engage Cutter in the proper challenge. The younger elf may defend his right, but Strongbow batters that defense with anger and his convictions and the need for a safe Holt. You locksend to Strongbow, Cutter stiffens mentally and that send slams into him with enough force to bring about the smallest measure of niggling doubt. **You can not simply close off the holt, Strongbow. Look at the Mountain and the UnderWorld... see what has happened to them in closing themselves off from the rest of us?** Gentlestorm watches the challenge, frowning, but doing nothing else. What he would've said now makes no difference anyhow. You sense in a locksend, Strongbow senses that doubt and bores into it, his send a piercing needle, finding what weakness he can, ** No. But I can keep it safe from those who would harm it. Humans. Rogue Plantshapers. Underworlders and Gliders. High Ones, you even tried to form a treaty with the Underworlders...it's like forming a treaty with the Snake! You have opened yourself and this Holt up for destruction and I will not stand by and watch anymore! Strongbow pages: ** Cutterreacts to that reaching out by grasping the archer's hands melding the mental battle with a physical one. His lips draw back, revealing his elongated canines as the storm punctuates the battle with a brilliant flash of light and a roll of thunder that shakes the very ground. Surely the thunder is not louder than the sends that flash through each other's mind. Strongbow is ready for the physical assault, his light brown eyes never straying from the blue. You locksend to Strongbow, Cutter blinks mentally as the archer's thoughts pound against his mind. The crack in his self confidence widens significantly and the introspection can be felt by you. o O(Have I really put the tribe into a dangerous position?) Slowly, his will for this fight dissapates, leaving only confusion and self doubt in its place. Something in the archer's sendings seems to break through Cutter's will and his eyes blink.. Then slowly he turns his head, showing throat to Strongbow even as his posture relaxes and he lowers his hands to his side. His cheeks flush with embarrassment and flickers of doubt ripple across his countenence. As the sends fade into something less discernable, the archer's eyes remain on Cutter. He is strong in his convictions, as conservative as they may be, and he feels that they are -right-. His confidence doesn't bloom as Cutter's fades...in fact, he almost looks sympathetic at the younger elf's submission. Once he turns away, Strongbow gives a slight squeeze to Cutter's shoulder before he draws his knife and cuts the tie holding the chief's lock in place. You sense in a locksend, Strongbow's anger fades as the victory is his. He knows that this is the right thing, right now. ** I'm sorry cub. ** is sent with at least a measure of empathy. Gentlestorm looks from one to the other. His eyes touch Strongbow, an eyebrow raised in question. He simply awaits the condemnation to come. It will be no surprise; however, he has to wait so that he can report to his mother and Djhala. Cutter says nothing openly, only turns and walks away from his new chief. Gone is the pride in the set of his shoulders, what's left is but a shell of the confident elf that stood there only moments before. There is much that the former wolfchief must deal with before he can face the others. You locksend to Strongbow, Cutter replies in a tone that is merly resigned and, as with his posture, is only a shadow of his normal self, **I haven't been a cub for quite some time, Strongbow.** Strongbow watches as Cutter moves off before he looks to the knife in his hand. That is quickly sheathed as he raises his eyes, now a chief. If there is any doubt about his new position, it isn't revealed. Instead, his brown eyes find those of his great-grandson. ** Neither Snowstorm nor Ashi are permitted in the boundaries of the Holt. The bluff should protect you from the storm. ** But Gentlestorm, Sandstorm, and Djhala may enter freely if they choose. It's not that he doesn't have a heart or that it's cold...he has his home and his tribe to think about. There should be no threats to them. Gentlestorm nods, ** As you wish; however, know that Snowstorm will never allow Sandstorm to be kept from her. It is best that he not enter the holt at all. I will simply tell them that none of us are allowed in except Djhala. It would probably be best. ** Gentlestorm knows his mother much better than Strongbow and hopes that Strongbow realizes that. ** We will be moving on when Djhala moves onto the Mountain. ** He shrugs and turns to walk away. There is a frown brought on by his great-grandson's send, but Strongbow nods, understanding. ** Then I shall have to visit the two of you outside the Holt.** He then pauses and tilts his head, ** The Mountain? Why? ** A glance is given to Ynderra and a send sent only to her.