Editing New Ways Old Grudges Werewolf Caern Specifics

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Thriving green grass fills the rolling prairie from horizon to horizon, at least in warmer months. In colder months, which are many up here in the Badlands, the land and its plants of all sizes are hunkering down and saving their strength, growing tough and hard in the face of withering blizzards and snowdrifts deep enough to bury a tall man standing up. In some places there are cracked expanses of crumbling grey concrete - the legacy of a failed project from several decades ago, slowly being reclaimed by the Earth and fading from common memory.
 
Thriving green grass fills the rolling prairie from horizon to horizon, at least in warmer months. In colder months, which are many up here in the Badlands, the land and its plants of all sizes are hunkering down and saving their strength, growing tough and hard in the face of withering blizzards and snowdrifts deep enough to bury a tall man standing up. In some places there are cracked expanses of crumbling grey concrete - the legacy of a failed project from several decades ago, slowly being reclaimed by the Earth and fading from common memory.
  
Deceptively high bluffs line the northern and western edges of the bawn, overlooking a long and meandering stream that feeds the distant Yellowstone. Stark and bare apart from a few scrub bushes and thin weeds, the boulders and rocky face of the winding cliff face extend for some distance, chewed out of the landscape by uncountable millennia of harsh winds and bitter cold. The southern and eastern sides of the bawn consist mainly of low, rolling hills, little creeks and brush patches, as well as a couple of old dirt service roads still used by the sept. A ten-foot wire fence surrounds the property that doesn't back up onto the river - old and rusting, but deceptively sturdy and reinforced by hidden spirit wards, as well as large "Property of the State of Montana - No Trespassing" signs hung every hundred feet or so.
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Deceptively high bluffs line the northern and western edges of the bawn, overlooking a long and meandering stream that feeds the distant Yellowstone. Stark and bare apart from a few scrub bushes and thin weeds, the boulders and rocky face of the winding cliff face extend for some distance, chewed out of the landscape by uncountable millennia of harsh winds and bitter cold.
  
 
=Caern Heart, Caern of the Biting Mist=
 
=Caern Heart, Caern of the Biting Mist=
  
At some ancient point in the distant past, a glacier carved a deep hollow in the ground. Years went by and harsh winters cracked the stones at the hollow's edge, while melting snows filled it with icy water that turned warm in the spring. The mist is constant - at all times there is a faint film in the air and obscuring the finer details of people, animals and things at the heart of the caern. One of the few stands of tall trees in this part of the prairie surrounds the caern's heart - descendants of trees that have been in the area for centuries, well before the whites came. The pond at the caern's heart actually sits above the river, but somehow has managed to remain full and vibrant. Other ponds in similar circumstances drain away or go stagnant - this one has not.
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At some ancient point in the distant past, a glacier carved a deep hollow in the ground. Years went by and harsh winters cracked the stones at the hollow's edge, while melting snows filled it with icy water that turned warm in the spring. The mist is constant - at all times there is a faint film in the air and obscuring the finer details of people, animals and things at the heart of the caern. The old air traffic control tower looms above the mist, but is typically dark - out of service for decades, it is slowly fading and crumbling.
  
 
Fog is not a materialistic totem, but here it is not solely a being of ephemeral mist and concealment. Here, Fog is strong, cold, and hungry. The colder months bring out an especially bitter and deadly streak in Fog - every year a careless hiker or two and a number of lost, drunk roughnecks are found face-down in the dirt, frozen to death after losing their way or having an accident. Fog appreciates discretion and secrecy, true, but the sept totem here is different than similar sept totems in other places - the canny Theurge or warrior has been known to use the severed heads or warm and bleeding hearts of enemies as a means by which to gain Fog's favor here.
 
Fog is not a materialistic totem, but here it is not solely a being of ephemeral mist and concealment. Here, Fog is strong, cold, and hungry. The colder months bring out an especially bitter and deadly streak in Fog - every year a careless hiker or two and a number of lost, drunk roughnecks are found face-down in the dirt, frozen to death after losing their way or having an accident. Fog appreciates discretion and secrecy, true, but the sept totem here is different than similar sept totems in other places - the canny Theurge or warrior has been known to use the severed heads or warm and bleeding hearts of enemies as a means by which to gain Fog's favor here.
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The caern narrowly escaped annihilation in 1955, back when the American government started tearing up big chunks of the Badlands to put in nuclear missile silos and other doomsday weapons. Sept elders at the time somehow managed to have a small military base and airport put in at the fringe of the bawn instead - the base was closed soon after in a realignment plan, and the airport reverted to civilian control. It was discovered, however, that fog and high winds had become unavoidable problems. After a number of plane crashes and well over a hundred dead in a two-year span, the airport was permanently shut down in the early 1960s and turned over to the State of Montana. They were unable or unwilling to do anything with it either, and it has largely been decaying in place ever since. With Kinfolk support and money obtained from dubious sources, the sept has managed to buy up the old airport and make it part of the bawn - the most valuable commodities are undoubtedly the old terminal and hangar buildings.
 
The caern narrowly escaped annihilation in 1955, back when the American government started tearing up big chunks of the Badlands to put in nuclear missile silos and other doomsday weapons. Sept elders at the time somehow managed to have a small military base and airport put in at the fringe of the bawn instead - the base was closed soon after in a realignment plan, and the airport reverted to civilian control. It was discovered, however, that fog and high winds had become unavoidable problems. After a number of plane crashes and well over a hundred dead in a two-year span, the airport was permanently shut down in the early 1960s and turned over to the State of Montana. They were unable or unwilling to do anything with it either, and it has largely been decaying in place ever since. With Kinfolk support and money obtained from dubious sources, the sept has managed to buy up the old airport and make it part of the bawn - the most valuable commodities are undoubtedly the old terminal and hangar buildings.
  
Despite their age and outward decrepitude, Kinfolk contractors and innovative werewolves have converted the Eisenhower-era buildings into passable living space over the last 60 years - the frequent cold and damp are gladly accepted by the sept's Bone Gnawers as big improvements over scratching out sleeping space in eight-foot snowdrifts, while the Wendigo and Fenrir are satisfied that their accommodations are not too plush and soft. Everybody else thinks the members of these tribes are weird, to some degree or another, and are usually looking to bring in space heaters, more blankets and the newfangled concept of "insulation". The old air traffic control tower looms above the mist, but is typically dark - out of service for decades, the exterior is slowly fading and crumbling, although its commanding height has warranted it being reinforced and shored up over the years.
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Despite their age and outward decrepitude, Kinfolk contractors and innovative werewolves have converted the Eisenhower-era buildings into passable living space over the last 60 years - the frequent cold and damp are gladly accepted by the sept's Bone Gnawers as big improvements over scratching out sleeping space in eight-foot snowdrifts, while the Wendigo and Fenrir are satisfied that their accommodations are not too plush and soft. Everybody else thinks the members of these tribes are weird, to some degree or another, and are usually looking to bring in space heaters, more blankets and the newfangled concept of "insulation".
  
For material defenses, the bawn sports wide open sprawling country as a first line of defense - it is very difficult to sneak up on the residents of the Biting Mist Sept. Predictably, the old air traffic control tower serves as a sniper's nest. So far it has yet to serve as a physically commanding surveillance or command post during a set-piece or guerrilla-type battle, but some believe that is only a matter of time. Unexpectedly, it is generally accepted that there is at least one sniper team on duty at all times, typically Kinfolk war veterans. When there are no enemies to shoot, they poach deer for marksmanship practice, to stave off boredom, and to get free meat. It is generally known that there are minefields and other unconventional warfare plans in place, to say nothing of spirit-based defenses, but the Sept's Warder is stingy with details about most of those.
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For material defenses, the bawn sports wide open sprawling country as a first line of defense - it is very difficult to sneak up on the residents of the Biting Mist Sept. Predictably, the old air traffic control tower serves as a sniper's nest. So far it has yet to serve as a physically commanding surveillance or command post during a set-piece or guerrilla-type battle, but some believe that is only a matter of time. Unexpectedly, it is generally accepted that there is at least one sniper team on duty at all times, typically Kinfolk war veterans. When there are no enemies to shoot, they poach deer for marksmanship practice, to stave off boredom, and to get free meat. It is generally believed that there are minefields and other such dirty tricks and unconventional warfare tricks, but the Warder typically plays these close to the vest and only reveals their locations to werewolves holding the status of pack alpha or higher.
  
 
=Spirits In Residence=
 
=Spirits In Residence=

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