Ornature

[Moira Murray] Color flushes pale cheeks, her head dips down, eyes casting towards Karl with a heavy-lidded gaze as he comes to stand next to her. She doesn't make any immediate move towards him, just stands there quietly. Her hands wringing into the strap of the nylon bag she holds in her front of her.

Joe's bellowing voice caught her attention briefly, glancing his way, and then to Kora when there was a nod of greeting. Moira straightens her shoulders, a line of tension running through her as she can see Matthias rolling into her peripheral, she remains where she is... with Izzy for now.

[Joe War- Handed] "Karl. Da new Rotagar. Trudy too. Theah comin' ta hunt widdus.. only dey don' know it yet."
to Kora

[Trudy Adler] Joe starts yelling about the Foresti, her, and she half chokes on the mouthful of beer as she chuckles. Patting her chest, she got it down to the stomach instead of her lungs before she raises her beer to the Jarl. She looks over at others, all doing their own thing, quiet for a bunch of Get of Fenris. She doesn't jump onto a keg or make grand gestures. She simply calls out:

"I'm Fistful of Reason, otherwise known as Trudy Adler. While I'm not as seasoned as some of you," Fosterns, what have you, "I have some life experience up my sleeve. Grab my number if you want it, and give me a holler if you need to chat."

That was all. She went to go and grab some of the spread and cheese on some flat bread.

[Colt Montgomery] ~the largest of the Fenrir stepped out of the treeline, couldn't miss all that wild mane of blonde, reminded him of one of those hairbands in the 80's, that were plastered all over Cara's wall back on the ranch, he waited as the introductions seemed to be in order

another glance in Karl's direction, the older of the kin, she looked like a cop, from the way she carried herself, the clothes, the cigarette, girl wouldn't be able to run in a few more years, not without an inhaler, he smirked, but he did want to meet her, offer his tracking skills to one of the good guys~

[Josie Clark] [WP...

[Joe War- Handed] Joe raises cupped hands to his mouth and bellows again. Kee- rist they're quiet for Get.

"Anybody at ALL! Cuz' if yew guys is all hunky dory, My name's Susan!"

[Odins Eye] Steely eyes turn to Moira... Focusing on her briefly. His expression stern, unyielding in the dim lighting. Matched by the twin pairs of red eyes that peek above the neck of the tee shirt in stark black inkwork on fair skin.

Then, he grins ever so slightly...

"Can we call you Suzy?"

[Holds the Line] ((Oh, shall we be persuasive tonight?))

[Odins Eye] ((Suzy question was for Joe.))

[Joe War- Handed] Joe's face splits into a wide, happy grin, and he winks at Odin's Eye. All at once the boy is in motion, rumbling toward Odin's eye with one hand held out to shake.

"Only yew, snookums! Glad ya made it!"

[Holds the Line] Karl looks to Moira, then up to the gathered. The new arrival. He never met the man, but he knows him. Only one that matches what little Moira had told him. Those glacial eyes on the man for a few moments before the Rotagar steps forward, raising his voice to be heard, channeling his human persuasiveness into his voice.

“Some of you I met at the caern moot. Others do not know me, yet. I am holds the Line. Rotagar, and Cliath to the nation.”

A breath, then he shakes his head a little, and a ghost of a smile falls on his face.
“I am new here, still learning, but all Fenrir, True and family have my ear when needed. Have my skills always.”

[Drew Roscoe] Drew's eyes flicked from face to face, most she recognized, several she did not. She'd finished up the bratwurst, licked the ketchup and mustard from the corners of her mouths, and filled herself a beer from the kegs. She sipped past the head, wiped the foam from her upper lip, and listened...

..to the crickets. To a one-on-one conversation between Joe and Trudy, where they addressed the crowd but the crowd didn't address back. She caught a figure over at the trees, and made a quiet, inward sound that was borderline amusement. So the guy that had scared the piss out of Gina was a part of the tribe, not a monster after all. That would make him, what the fourth Get she's met with a pistol aimed at his head?

Joe called out, Drew glanced at him, then huffed out a breath of air and raised her glass to indicate that she was going to speak, and dropped it down to chest level again.

"I'm pretty sure I'm just out of the loop... I mean, I'm not on the front lines, I don't hear what you guys talk about, what you've fought or how many times you've fought 'em... Who's dead, who isn't... It's hard to keep track..." She'd gotten off topic, shook her head a little to bring herself back, and continued. "Shouldn't we be talking about that? What we're doing to stop the rash of deaths and the Kinfolk disappearing? I don't think we ever got Joey's cousin back... Since we're all together, why don't we...," and her tone quieted some when she realized this was probably out of line, but it was too late to stop completely anyways. "...talk about that? ...Talk at all?"

[Colt Montgomery] ~well he chimed in, a step taken, texas accent~ "Colt Montgomery, Culls the Beast. Modi, and Cliath to the Nation"

[Josie Clark] She's counting heads.

One... two... three... Her head nods as she does, blue eyes taking in the details of what was around her. Standing in silence, thought hat silence turns to tense muscles, as introductions are made. Joe speaks, and it's all she has to-

"No kidding-" she can't hold back "-no intelligence? No challenges? No important information? Nothing that your kin might need to know to-"

She stops herself. Almost literally bites her tongue. The female inhales.

"I don't even know half of your names. And-"

It hits her what Drew said-

"How did that happen?" She looks at Drew, from the female to the Trueborn. She looked surprised to say the least.

(I know this comes out of time order, I'm sorry guys!)

[Josie Clark] Then-

"Oh, I'm Josie, by the way? Josie Clark."

[Trudy Adler] There we go. The Kinfolk start chiming in.

Trudy bites into the bread as she watches, her gaze flicking from one to the other. Namely from those speaking up and over to Joe, the Jarl, to see what he has to say about it.

[Izzy Montoya] Another joins at the edge of the clearing, and she flicks her gaze in his direction, resting there briefly before dark eyes slip away again. She lifts a cigarette to her lips as Drew speaks up - of course she does - and looks her way. This glance lasts half as long as the first, and she simply continues her observation.

Perhaps some expect her to speak up with some problem or another.
She doesn't.
[Yet.]

[Kora] Kora - Sorrow - is a tall blonde, narrow shouldered, standing close to her Alpha. He leans closer and muttered into her ear, and the right corner of her expressive mouth hooks upward at the corner, twists into the faint impression of a fine, curving sort of half-smile. Then her eyes flash to Trudy, Holds the Line, and Culls the Beast as they offer their introductions.

"Kora Eyjólfsdóttir - is her own, her voice even and low and wholly American. " - she who offers sorrow, Cliath and Skald, fostered at the Sept of Wind and Rain in Hjaltland, Maelstrom's for some moons, packed under Hermodr with Joe War-Handed as my Alpha." There is an expectant look cast back toward Odin's Eye for a moment, and an attentive glance toward Drew and Josie, and a moment of concentration.

[Kora] Want me to handle the initial news-summary, boss? Or do you have it under control?
to Joe War- Handed

[Moira Murray] What excitement she had earlier on the walk over to the gathering has drained away. She lifts her head up, eyebrows arching as she looks across the way to meet and match the steely gaze of Odin's Eye - the sternness in his expression noticeable.

She lowers her face, a closed fist raised up to cover her mouth as she clears her throat, listening to those that start to announce who they are. She offers her own, shooting a glance to Izzy once and then shrugs her shoulders.

"I am Moira Murray-Tasgall. I was once a kinfolk once bound to the Eagle's Chosen and formerly a ward of Silence. I have lived here in Chicago off and on for the past five years... I have seen and experienced much here. For those that do not know, I am in service to the tribe by the late Jarl to serve as a Healer to any that request it of me, kin or garou. As that is what I am capable of, being one so blessed by Gaia and capable of using her gifts to heal those in need."

[Odins Eye] Matthias takes Joe's hand and shakes it firmly, nodding...

"Hard to sleep with so many in the woods. Never know when some drunk will pee in your den."

Then, releasing Joe's hand, Matthias meets Kora's expectant look wordlessly... Before considering the group as a whole.

The deep bass rumble thick with accents of rural Minnesota.

"I am Matthias. Odin's Eye before the Nation, Cliath Modi to the Fenrir.

I stand alone... For now."

[Joe War- Handed] (No apologies necessary. Too many folks to worry about that. *G*)

"Ya shuwah as fuck are, aintcha." Its delivered a bit wry- but not at all intimidating.. Rather, a vaguely impressed expression flickers across his face.

Joe watches Drew, then Josie as they speak. "Way ta speak up theah, goyls. Steady on wit da throttle dough, huh? Weah only jus' gettin' wit' da introductions."

"I'm Joe War-Handed, Cliath Modi of da Get of Fenris. Son of the Swords of Heimdal, Jarl of da Sept of da Maelstrom, an' Alpha of Aesir's Call. Nephew to Stone~Tooth, great grandson of Arn Witch-Strike. Drew Roscoe-" He points to the short kinwoman. "Da hottie ovah theah- is my mate. Sah no touchy."

[Izzy Montoya] She watches Moira, as she clears her throat, dark eyes shifting between Karl and Matthias, and back to the young kinfolk again. And then she just finishes off her cigarette, and sinks into a graceful crouch to put it out against a rock, making sure the butt remains in her hand, before it's slipped into her pocket once more, for now.

When she stands again, fluidly, gracefully, she lifts her chin slightly, and then in the silence. "Detective Izzy Montoya. CPD. Homicide." It's all she says. It's all that's important.

[Joe War- Handed] (Sorry- the 'sure as fuck are' bit was in reply to Josie's outburst a while ago.)

[Holds the Line] The kin women calls for talk. Calls for words. For the Garou, things are a bit differently. Had all here been known to each other, the mood would have been different. More rowdy without a doubt. But there are new faces. New scents and instincts that had to be taken in, measured, weighed and processed before it was time to get rowdy.

Yet the Rotagar listens, watches, and then speaks up again once more.
“Drew is not wrong. Strangers we are still, many of us new to each other, but we are all Fenrir. In us runs the Blood that has stained a thousand battlefields. Time to raise our cups, for BrothIers, sister and family.”

And the Rotagar does just so, raising his glass into the air. He is no Skald, but there is a strength to his voice, strengthened by the blood of heroes in him, a shadow of the skalds that seem to be lacking tonight, yet If none of them are around to raise their voices, then the Rotagar does so, and does it happily.

[Drew Roscoe] One corner of her mouth pulled back a bit, but it was hard to place an emotion with the expression. It could be anything from exasperation to a smile being bitten back. Joe started up part of her introduction, explaining that she was hands off and precisely why that was (not that anyone had done so much as make eyes at her tonight, she was pretty sure most of the crowd had caught on to the fact that she was taken, and by the 'boss' no less). She followed up with a statement of her own.

"Drew, like he said. I live out in Hyde Park, just off the lake shore. I've got a spare bedroom if anybody finds themselves in the area and needing a place to recuperate for the night."

And then Karl spoke up, agreeing with her (which honestly caught her off guard, she hadn't seen a smile on that man's face when it was pointed in her direction yet). He called for them to raise their cups, in what she would assume to be a drink for the fallen. Or a drink for those who would live on. Or both. It didn't matter, she raised her cup along with him.

[Colt Montgomery] ~those hazel eyes move around the crowd as everyone begins to fall in line with the whole introductions, a wide grin to the Jarl as he speak his mind and lays claim that no one touches the cook, he heard that one coming.

Izzy Montoya, so there she was, the CPD, he was right about her, he'd have to make his way over there, though she seemed like she didn't want to be a part of the Moot, he wasn't sure she would want anything to do with him, probably wouldn't want his services either, but he'd offer still. he end the looke loo with Holds the line, lifting his glass with the others, and taking a long pull~

[Joe War- Handed] Joe turns back around, having filled his glass again, and returns Holds-the-Line's toast. Beer scatters in droplets as he lowers it again, stares into it and takes a deep drink.

"Awright folks, dem goyls is right- time ta get down ta sumpfin' moah serious befoah we deal wit' da fun parts."

Clearing his throat is a rough, gravely sound, but he seems strangely relaxed, given the topic.

"Anyone what's been ta da kinfolk meetin's an' stuff, take a step ovah heah. Feh da next little bit, yew guys is gonna be my ovahsight, awright? Got suggestions, corrections, belt'em out."

Joe raises his head, trying to catch Izzy's eye. If she meets his look, he tilts an eyebrow. Unspoken question and challenge at once. With that, he returns his attention to those gathered within speaking distance.

"Last month, a cousin of Joey- Rotagar in town, runs wit' da Sentinels pack- got taken by da Moraine Hills hive. Joey an' her crew got him back- but apparently he ran back off again. He was apparently wit' da Federales, tew- sah if yew, Iz, owah John got any way ta track 'im, get a handle on wheah he is an' what he's dewin- cuz dat second time he went of his own free will. Prolly gone feh good. If he aint, we need a heads up sah we can take him down. Got it?"

[Joe War- Handed] (ehm, assume he inserts the guy's name right here.)

[Kora] "To those who've gone before - " Kora murmurs, lifting her glass with Karl's toast toward the Rotagar. It's not nominative, this. There's memory written into her words. There's death underneath her skin. " - and to those," to Drew, to Moira, to Izzy, the glass is raised again, " - who come after."

Then, circles to stand close to her Alpha, looking out over the loose knot of her tribesmates, back to her Alpha when he speaks. Like Joe's, her fair head swings toward Izzy somewhere in the middle of the recitation of the news.

When her Alpha has finished, she appends, "Joey told the Guardians that he might've had your number, Detective. Thornton's too. And Dr. Slaughter's. She's changed her number; I trust you will too. Be watchful, especially if you've met him. Let us know if you catch wind of anything; or if some stranger's giving you funny looks."

[Izzy Montoya] Oh she meets his look, and a brow arches slightly in reply. Challenge, question, whichever it is, it's clear she's listening, paying attention - she always does. She clasps her hands behind her back, standing at ease, and listens. While she doesn't take a step 'ovah theah', he knows she has attended those meetings. He also knows, perhaps better than most, that she has no problem speaking up to correct him. Any of them. Despite what it may cost her.

She's proven that - and as a result, he asked her why she didn't just go. Just leave them to themselves, just forget who she is and run away until they deemed it necessary to bring her back once more, most likely. So many questions... too bad not a damn one of them really knows anything about her at all, hm?

"Matthew Oliver. Got it." She doesn't write the name down - she doesn't have too. She'll remember.

Then Kora's words get two reactions. The first, when she's looked at for 'those who come after', her lips curve into a slight smirk, a huff of breath through her nostrils, perhaps in amusement. Slim, trim, there's clearly nothing coming after from her. Then, to the addition after Joe... that gets another reaction entirely. Irritation flashes through her gaze, a tightening of her lips in anger, and above all, thoughtfulness. It smooths away almost instantly, and she nods, slightly. "Of course."

[Odins Eye] Matthias, for his part, approaches the refreshments. Filling a beer stein, he turns and raises it perfunctorily, his expression dour. Then, in a thoughtful tone, he speaks...

"It would be wise to circulate his picture among those of the tribe, so that those who have not met him may still identify him. It is possible he may be found by mere happenstance."

[Moira Murray] Conversation blooms all around her. She has fallen quiet, listening for the most part. Moira starts to break away from her place beside Izzy and Karl as they become involved in speaking. She picks up the nylon bag, slinging it across her shoulder as she glances around, making her way towards the refreshments and food to browse over it.

[Colt Montgomery] ~he was listening and drinking, but the growl in his belly was getting louder, and so he made his way to where a few of the others had gotten their grub on, a plate was picked up, a link and some steak, something pretty rare, he was all about the pink meat~

[Joe War- Handed] Joe nods at Odin's Eye's suggestion.

"Dat woyks tew, but I aint got any way ta get th' guy's picture. Mebbe da cops can help widdat."

Joe thrusts his chin at Izzy, then looks between Kora, Trudy, and Karl.

"Drew ovah heah tol' me Matt got taken da foyst time when some Spirals was tryin' ta kidnap someone else." He points between the aforementioned garou. "Yew guys an' me ah gonna go ta da intended victim's house an' see what we can come up wit. Maybe figgah out who dey was aftah an' why."

He looks to Colt. "Yowah pack got phones- give Izzy heah yowah numbah. She can touch base wit' youse guys if she comes up wit' sumpfin."

[Joe War- Handed] "She's prolly gonna need youse guys ta be ready ta move quick if she calls.. an' I want yew guys ta grab Matt if da opportunity presents itself befoah anyone else at da sept can. Dis is owah fuckup, an WE need ta be da ones what fix it. sah I hope yowah a light sleepah."

[John Thornton] A light is seen at the edge of the clearing, bouncing like a will o' wisp amid the tree trunks and foliage. A man in a black trenchcoat and suit steps from the trees, the light revealed as a large, heavy mag-lite flashlight.

His hair was a thick mop of brown near to black in the darkness, and his eyes were ringed in dark circles... He looked as though he hadn't slept... in forever, if that was possible.

Still, a wan not a smile breaks out upon an untelling deadpan as he approaches and takes a spot standing near Izzy.

[Holds the Line] He is no Skald, but perhaps he managed to sway them a little. At least they have started talking more openly now. He turns slightly as Moira passes beside him, heading for the food. He watches her go, glacial blue eyes on her for a long moment before he looks to Jarl. Another drink taken from the glass then he is moving forward.

Yet it is clear in short order that Joe is not his intended target. It is the large Viking of a man, Odin’s Eye. He speaks when he reaches the man, tone low, just loud enough to be heard over the talk going on around them.

“Odin’s Eye, we need to talk.”

The Rotagar looks up at the man, those cold blue eyes focused on him. Holds the Line stands relaxed, yet there is tension if you look close enough, if you know what to look for.

[Trudy Adler] Trudy gives a small nod both at Joe and Drew, letting them know she's listening but without interruption. Her gaze had flickered to watch Moira wander for food and Karl to approach Matthias. She's just about finished her first beer.

[Colt Montgomery] ~he looked up just in time to see Joe lookin at him, plate in one hand, beer in the other, a yes sir was given, he made his way from the table with all the fixins over to where Izzy was~ "Evenin Detective. I'd offer ya a handshake, but ain't no place to put my plate" ~so he grinned instead~ "Colt Montgomery, my packmate and I are bounty hunters and i offer up our services for the cause, anytime. If you need anything. You call me." ~he then spouted off his phone number even if she looked like she might not want it~ "You got a card? Ya can tuck it in my shirt pocket if ya like"

[Izzy Montoya] "Gotta name?" For the intended victim, she means.

And then there is another, and for those watching, there is something suddenly.. different in Izzy's stance. It's not something overt, not something obvious, but subtle, and it happens the moment John Thornton enters the clearing, and he takes a spot at her side. She meets his gaze evenly, and though she says nothing, there is obviously some sort of communication happening in that moment. He smiles his wan smile that's never quite a smile [but for when they're alone, of course] and her smirk... warms. Briefly.

There's a connection there. It's as clear as the day is long.

Then she returns her attention to the conversations at hand, and the warmth is gone, hidden away. Colt moves her way, and she nods. She pulls a card from her pocket and tucks it into Colt's shirt pocket. When he looks at it later, it's much like she is - simple, unadorned, no-nonsense. Her name, her number, her cell number under her extension at the station. She writes his down as he rattles it off, then returns card and pen to her pocket again. "Alright. Thanks."

[Odins Eye] Matthias turns to Karl, and after downing a significant swig of beer, eyes him sternly. The beer stein then finds its way back to the top of one of the beer kegs, there to rest silently. There is tension, easily read in the Modi, even as his hands hang loose at his sides.

"Do we?"

[Moira Murray] Moira turns suddenly, the tension that had been building in her shoulders as spread down her spine, forcing it to go rigid. Her head snaps to the side, eyes sliding around as they catch sight of Karl heading for the tall Viking figure of Matthias. Hands that clenched the straps of the nylon bag release it, allowing it to drop on the ground at the refreshment table.

She moves as quickly as her curvy frame will allow, hoping to intercept Karl as he makes his way over to Matthias, coming upon them both.

"Karl..." a low warning edging into her voice.

[Joe War- Handed] Joe doesn't turn around. He doesn't twitch. but steel filings may as well have been dusted through his nearly donkey- like voice.

"Holds-da-Line. If its what I t'ink it is, its been delt wit. So, da tew uh yew can go tawk if ya need ta- but don't tawk any further den th' circle ovah deah."

His half lidded gaze swings to Karl.

"Take ya prollems out innit if ya want. But yew boff bettah step back outta dat circle tew."

[John Thornton] John, standing beside Izzy, takes out a card from his wallet and puts it in Colt's pocket as well.

"In case Izzy's busy with paperwork..."

He smiles that wan not-a-smile, as eyes of hazel swing to Izzy, turning off the flashlight and putting it into the trenchcoat pocket. Then, he considers for a few moments...

"I don't think we've met. Detective John Thornton... Also C.P.D."

[Izzy Montoya] Paperwork, he says, and the careful mask that Izzy always wears.... cracks. She smiles. It's brief, it's warm, it's amused, it's... something that turns her strong features into something almost... pretty.

She looks up at him, and then away, so that she can carefully school her expression once more as John introduces himself.

[Colt Montgomery] ~Colt noticed as John took his place next to Izzy, Colt offered him a nod and a grin as well, again his hands were full, his texas accent hard to miss~ "Thank ya Sir" ~yep he was even respectful to the men in uniform, even the kin. He was happy to have the two cards, he'd be contacting either or both of them in the near future~ "Colt Montgomery also known as Culls the Beast. Modi. Claith. I'm new here. Pleasure to meet cha Detective Thornton"

[John Thornton] "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Montgomery. If what little I overheard upon my approach is any indication, your skills may prove invaluable with respect to Miss Oliver's relative."

John nods, and then his eyes stray to Colt's plate...

"I hadn't realized it was a carry-in; I would've brought something."

[Colt Montgomery] "I'm here to help in anyway I can, all ya gotta do is call me" ~he hoped his skills would be used and tested, he was tired of sittin on his hands, and being new was hard~ "No worries, I brought in a big chest full of steak and chicken, the Jarl's mate was busy grillin it up, ya should get cher self a plate before it's cold"

[Holds the Line] (do we?)
(Its been delt wit.)

It seems no one bothered to inform the Rotagar that the thing that had been hanging over them had been resolved. Holds the Line normally has enough rage in him to match the Modi he stands before, yet this night, it is diminished after last nights battle.

His shoulders roll, slowly, breath released slowly with a sigh. He faces Odin’s eye with a level gaze. But there is no challenge there. He nods then.
There is nothing more to be said right now. Matter is settled.
The Rotagar forces himself to turn to Joe, nodding to the Jarl.
“We will get to that soon enough War-Handed. First, we need more beer and stories to raise the mood.”

Holds the Line walks away from the two, heading towards Moira.

[Moira Murray] Karl will not have far to walk as Moira had been heading in that direction of the two Get of Fenris. She was standing there, hands on the round curve of her hips. Face tilted up as she watches them. A flare of nostrils, chest rising and falling with the quickened pace of her breathing.

"Karl?"

[Josie Clark] Jocelyn Clark was listening. She was listening with that big, too bright grin on her face. She even went to go get a beer. The female was going to be walking home, so it wasn't like she needed to really... well... The air fell silent, and she watched, eyes wide and attention unwavering. She took a long pull off of her beer.

God bless Monty, whoever he was.

[Joe War- Handed] The answering nod is respectful.. one born of a knowledge of the heat- lightning passing across any mated garou when their-

Joe blinks.. glances at Kora for a moment as he chews on whatever thought had taken him next. The bullish Modi lets out a long breath and looks back the kegs himself. Next, a drink. Then, well.. he's sure it'll come to him.

[Drew Roscoe] Drew had fallen back to quiet complacency after speaking her turn and offering up the spare bedroom in her house to any who needed it. She'd taken a moment to pull an elastic band from her wrist, gather her hair up at the back of her head and secure it into a ponytail of thick, run-of-the-mill brown that dusted the tops of her shoulders once secured, that hung a few inches past them when left down.

Karl approached someone who introduced himself as Odin's Eye, the big blonde man out of a Norse history book, and Moira got edgy. Drew watched this with her lips pressed together into a thin line, turning the thick ring of crude design but delicate, certain, accurate craftsmanship on her left ring finger, one cut with glyphs and designs, with a tingle of spiritual energy trapped within.

Joe broke it up, chatter started around the food table, and Karl stepped away from the Jarl and Norseman, no doubt to liquor himself up a little bit better. Drew watched this for a second, then shook her head and moved over to stand at Joe's side, slugging back a few deep swallows from her glass of beer as she stepped up to his right. First, though, before addressing the Jarl, she looked to Matthias and smiled a slightly awkward, but undeniably charming smile. Sheepish would be a good word for it, and she stuck out her right hand toward him as she spoke.

"Odin's Eye, did you say? Just wanted to meet you properly, I'm Drew, and I'm sorry I pointed my gun at ya those few days ago. Didn't realize you were family, man."

[Trudy Adler] Chuckling quietly from where she sits, she turns from the gathered to pour herself another beer and get herself some of the cooked food before moved off to settle down on a dry patch of ground with something to lean against. Her phone was checked and pocketed back into her jeans, and without any messages or calls from home, she started eating down some food, content to watch and listen in the background.

[Joe War- Handed] Joe's heavy jaw swings toward Drew as she casually drops the potentially lethal circumstances of her meeting with Odin's Eye.

"Yew did WHAT?"

His attention swings to the other massive Modi.

"Shit, bruddah.. dat means she LIKES yew! Shot me twice befoah I could get 'er ta bat 'er eyes, huh?"

[Izzy Montoya] She nods, slightly, at Colt. "We'll be in touch."

She doesn't make a move for the food herself. She seems content to stay where she is, on the outskirts of the festivities, where she can watch everything, hear most everything, keep herself apart and in one piece. Joe comments on Drew's gun skills, and there's a tightening at the corner of her lips as her jaw tenses, and she takes a slow breath, and releases it again.

She's bound up tight, the tension an iron band along her spine as she reaches into her pocket for her cigarettes and lighter. Her thoughts are her own however, safely tucked behind the mask.

[Odins Eye] Matthias watches Holds the Line, fighting the urge to growl in that all too deep voice of his. Still, he does speak, before the other Fenrir turns his back to walk away.

"The matter is settled; you have won. Gloat too loudly and I will have your head on a post in these woods."

Now there was nothing more to be said.

Turning to where Drew addressed him, and then Joe, Matthias shrugs.

"It is of no consequence... You did not fire.

Though I do wonder if you point firearms at all those who unnerve you with their appearance."

A mere grin, as Matthias takes his beer in hand yet again.

[Kora] Kora returns Joe's look, the corner of her mouth twisted as her dark eyes track Karl's path back through the clearing toward Moira. There is a quiet moment when she is still, utterly still, the beer held against her stomach, her shoulders set in the worn black cotton of her dedicated t-shirt. There's a fire in the firepit, small enough, and it catches out the colors in her pale hair as she lifts the glass to her mouth and drinks, deep, draining the glass entirely.

Then, she brushes back past her Alpha, toward the kegs sitting out in the green, growing grass, arrayed around the fire. There she finds the Goose Island pilsner, grabs the spigot, and leans forward, pumping air into the tap with a practiced hand before refilling her glass.

[Colt Montgomery] ~he stepped back away from the edge of the clearing, leaving the two detectives alone, he hadn't really missed any of the action, the whole Karl steppin up on Matt, and the pretty lil girl who seemed to be with Karl, his beer was gone, so he made a pit stop to fill it up, Goose Island pilsner for him, even though he had to wait behind Kora, he picked up the hose, and drained the rest into his cup, the head lay firm across the top and then he blew it off with a chuckle. this was his last one, just needed something wash down the food.

he found a spot on the ground, where he could still see everything close to trudy, he gave her a nod~ "Heya, mind if I take up a spot on the ground here?"

[Imogen Slaughter] It is not really her style of party.

She does not call herself Fenrir. She does not call herself much of anything at all. Not kinfolk, not mate to Silence or Decker or Rohl. She's been known to refer to Kinfolk as 'they' and Garou as 'they'. She lets her blood speak for herself, the lack of rage, the human trappings of her career.

The blood which marks her as Fianna - though she does not call herself that, either.

Still - she arrives when the sky is full dark, a hand touching a tree in an unmeant gesture for balance. Her eyes skim the crowd. Some she recognizes. Many she does not, and there are none whom she knows well.

Though she is dressed in jeans and has deigned to wear hardier boots for the occasion, Imogen is not much of an outdoorswoman. It is in the way she reaches down, plucking a twig from her jeans and flicking it away to the grassy floor.

"You can always count on a Fenrir party to include beer," this to Kora as she glances up - they are close enough for speaking distance. She brushes her hand against the thigh of her jeans, her other hand lifting to push over her hair, the bright red flames ironically muted in the firelight. Red mutes red.

[Drew Roscoe] Whether he shakes her hand in return or not, it drops to her waistline, thumb hitching into the empty beltloop of her pants while the other hand kept a grip of the sweating glass of beer. She rolled her eyes at Joe, but grinned anyways. "Hey. I shot at you twice. I'm pretty sure one of them missed."

For Odin's eye, she shook her head and rolled one shoulder. "Nah. Only the ones that have my friends cowering and screaming on the ground and make me feel like they're gonna kill indiscriminately." No doubt she was referring to his Rage, even though she had no idea what it was or how to properly describe it.

With that matter settled, though, her eyes skimmed the crowd once more, and her elbow moved to nudge Joe in the side. The grin had faded away from her face completely, and a pinch between her eyebrows suggested concern. When matched with the way her mouth was held, tight at the corners, pressed together in the center to thin her lips, it made for an expression that was almost comical in how sincerely uneasy it was.

"We're missing people, Joe..."

[Kora] "Fianna'll throw in whiskey," Kora returns, having registered the hint of Imogen's breeding in the air before she has registered her presence. There's a line from one to the other, a certain neural pathway snug beneath the more human folds of her mind. " - and maybe decent Scotch if you're lucky."

Then, holding out the spigot, attached to the hose, attached to the keg, her thumb on the trigger. "Grab a glass, yeah? I'll pour." There is a small pause, neat and narrow, accompanied by a familiar quirk of her mouth. "This is the decent stuff. If you want the Natty Light, though, that's the next keg over." Her shoulders curl beneath the black PIXIES t-shirt, " - gotta have something for everyone."

There's a scent of alcohol in the air, too. The grass around the kegs is damp with deliberately spilled beer. Every time Kora fills her own glass, she gives the grass a drink. One for the living, one for the dead.

"Good to see you, doc."

[Imogen Slaughter] "Fianna would be holdin' drinkin' contests by now," Imogen replies, pausing before she takes a glass, holding it out for Kora to pour, tilting it to control the head of foam. "Do a shot, take a punch, tha' sort o' thing."

Good to see you, doc. Imogen's gaze cuts, restrained, to the younger Fenrir, and rests there for several seconds.

"Hm." A quiet sound. "Well, I've seen th'Fianna trade blows and I've seen th'Sept play football. Might as well see wha' the Fenrir get up to."

[Joe War- Handed] (Back in a few, gotta go check something.)

[Kora] "At some point," Kora says, finishing the pour with a flourish that does not etch a four-leaf closer into the head of the foam. Another little drink for the damp grass, and then she coils the tubing around the tap, lifting her own beer to her mouth to cover her half smile. " - they might get together and start measuring. Until then, I'm afraid we'll likely forgo the drinking games in favor of a few good fights. And then drink to the victor, and the loser. Maybe their ancestors, and then the dead in the house of the gods.

"Though," she starts ambling away from the kegs, opening the space to whoever wants the next drink. " - if you wanted to challenge someone to a drinking game, I don't think anyone would gainsay you."

[Moira Murray] No reply from the Rotagar, Moira scrunches up her nose. She turns on her boots, lifting up her hands to scrub them across her eyes and sweep aside black bangs that try to blind her. She returns to the nylon bag left sitting on the ground at the refreshment table.

She leans down to pick it up, continuing on until she finds a seat and sits down across from Josie. Eyebrows furrowing as she sits the bag down on the table. She looks over when a flash of auburn slides into her peripheral and waves at Imogen.

"When did you get here?" She calls out to the other kin.

A huff of breath, Moira pulls her legs up to cross them under her and looks across at Josie. "Hi."

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen's breath exhales her mouth twisting in a humourless smirk.

"I don't imagine that I will," she says, smirking faintly as she, too, steps away from the keys, turning her head toward the sound of someone calling out to her. She sees Moira, her hand waving, and lifts her own hand part way in response.

"Thirty seconds ago," she calls back - though it is as much the skill of pitching one's voice to be heard as raising it.

She turns her attention back to Kora, "But I'll keep it in mind, shall I?"

[Colt Montgomery] ~he finished his beer and food, made for the garbage to dispose of everything, then headed over to sit near Josie~ "Hey where's yer sista?"

[Josie Clark] She looks at Moira, lips upturn and the female grins. She wiggles her fingers at the other female. She sits across from her, and she straightens up, "Hey there stranger, what's new?"

She glances at Colt, who takes a seat nearby. Ever the jovial one, ever the conversational one, "Jesse... shit, I don't know. She's always moving around and doing shit... I don't know, her job takes her weird places."

She shrugs. She plays it off.

[Joe War- Handed] (back)

The glass of beer gripped in one broad fist is all but forgotten.. Joe's gaze remains riveted on Holds-the-Line and Odin's Eye, the two garou's forms too still, eyes too hard against the other, for that to be anything but a test of wills. Along one side of the challenge circle, Joe paces back and forth.. a few steps one way, then he turns to move in the other. His jaw is clamped shut tightly- teeth grit together as he walks.

Though he's given the two Fenrir room, crowds neither one, he is one bound away from the pair of them.

"Whadaya mean?" His response to Drew is distracted, to say the least.

[Kora] "Do," says Kora. The expression on her face is not a smirk; just a faint, lively halfsmile that finds as much expression in her dark eyes as if finds a the edges of her generous mouth. " - I'd like to see you drink a modi or two under the table, Doc. Hey, if you win," - she gestures toward the stein, sitting in the center of one of the picnic tables arrayed with food. " - you get to drink out of that, and feel like a real Viking. We couldn't come up with a hat with horns on such short notice, or there'd be one, too."

There is a quick, subtle gesture with the beer glass toward the food. " - plenty if you're hungry. Trudy brought flatbread, the mustards and cheese. Colt brought steaks and chicken, and Drew brought the burgers and brats."

No one brought carrots. Kora does not mention the musty smelling dead deer covered with a ratty blanket by the fire.

[Moira Murray] Moira reaches for the nylon bag beside her, casting a glance at Colt and Josie. She nods to the other kin with the lovely voice. Her head drops, looking into the bag as a situation arises between the two fenrir she had abandoned.

"Do any of you drive? this to Colt and Josie.

[Colt Montgomery] ~he shrugged it off, Jesse didn't look old enough to have a job, and a girl who skated around on heeley's, well he just didn't say anything..looking at Moira~ "I drive" ~then looking back to Matt, Joe and Karl to see what was going on~

[Drew Roscoe] She watched Joe pace back and forth outside the circle etched into the dirt, frowned faintly, turned her head to glance after Karl, then returned her attention to the Jarl. Her eyes followed the roll of boulder-like shoulders, traced up to his face and the way he held his mouth, how his eyes were stuck inside the circle, bouncing between the two that had threatened conflict.

These people drank violence like boxed wine, she supposed it was only a matter of time before someone bled.

Her incisors clipped at the inside of her lower lip, and she gave a worried little mumble. "I don't see Joey. ...Don't see Wrath. Don't see Thomas..." You can hear the heartache in the last name, the hand-wringing concern that was better suited to someone pacing back and forth around an old kitchen table, waiting anxiously for the phone to ring, anticipating and dreading it all at once for the news that had to be at the other end of it.

"Booker didn't make it either."

[Josie Clark] "I? Do not."

[Blood Summons] One minute, there was a Godi standing by the beer kegs, listening to a story about a badass berserker with a thick skull and tiny sinuses. The next... he just wasn't there. It was as if he had vanished, or wandered off, without anyone noticing. He wasn't there for introductions, and he wasn't there for Karl to confront Matthias, for Joe to tell the two of them to take it to the challenge circle if they were going to insist on doing this.

When he reappears several minutes later, he's still bare-handed and hardly dressed for the weather. He rejoins the festivities as though nothing had happened, says nothing about where he had went; he just picks up a beer glass and starts to fill it.

"Doc," he says to the Fianna kinswoman, glancing sidelong at her as he pours beer into the glass.

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen's gaze flicks toward the challenge circle, the locked eyes of Garou. She takes an absent sip of her beer, her eyebrow arching slightly as she watches, before answering Kora a few seconds later than she might if her full attention were on the other.

"Should ha' had the hat," she says. "Then I might ha' truly been interested."

[Moira Murray] "Good. I may have to bother you for a lift back into the city."

Moira turns her head, glancing behind her to where she left Matthias and Karl standing, the Modi and the Rotagar facing each other as they try to stare each other down. Her nostrils flare out, tension rolling through her shoulders and back. A flicker of anger brimming in her eyes.

"Yes, definitely going to need a ride back to the city."

[Colt Montgomery] "Not a problem. I can drop ya off. Just grab me" ~with that he headed over to get a better look, he thought it was tense before, well he was a bettin man, he wondered what the odds were, and where everyone else was placing money. he waved at Imogen~ "Evenin"

[Joe War- Handed] As the two Fenrir start the invigorating process of battering each- other senseless- and old school style at that.. bare fists, no shifting, Joe's teeth flash in excitement.

Blood equals good, in a Modi's world.

His chin twitches toward Drew, his eyes soon after. Now that the exciting parts have arrived, Joe's pacing is stilled, as though the meaty smack of knuckles on flesh were all that was lacking to calm him down.

"Thomas is lookin' feh sumpfin. He's in th' Umbra Drew- he'll be fine." Lips twitch into a short lived smile.

"Wrath went down against a Danceh- an' went down well tew. As feh dis Booker guy- I don' know 'im. Who's dat?"

The bullish Modi's thick neck swings back to the fight. "Ah FUCK! DAT's gonna leave a lump!" He brays.

[Holds the Line] Karl turns to walk to Moira to find her almost upon him. Then Odin’s eye speaks up, and the Rotagar stops dead.
Oin’s eye growls
(Gloat too loudly and I will have your head on a post in these woods)

The Rotagar turns with an agility matching the wolf inside him, those glacial eyes burning. Odin’s eye stands inches taller then the Rotagar, yet somehow, it does not seem to bother the Rotagar at all. Teeth bared, he fixes Matthias with a stare, direct, challenging. Karl is physically smaller, yet within him sings the blood of heroes, of purity of the Blood-Snow.

[Trudy Adler] (ooc: there's a fight? I must be missing posts.)

[Izzy Montoya] (they're doing it in PMs. we requested posts so that we can react. :) )

[Holds the Line] (Not a fight, a staredown. post coming shortly from Odin's eye)

[Kora] Kora's eyes flash to the Garou locked in a staredown, too. She studies them closely, her mouth stilling as she assess their respective stages, then frowns at the kin closest to the pair. With her eyes still on the duo, who are now apparently fighting, she breathes out a laugh over another sip of her beer, enough to set the surface of the gradually diminishing head rippling.

"In that case, doc," she replies, "I'll start planning earlier, next time. You'll have to get me your hat size, ahead of time." Then, as Blood Summons joins them, flanking the Fianna kinswoman. " - rhya."

[ooc: there's a fight going on? ]

[Trudy Adler] (ooc: Oh. Got confused. I didn't see nothing.)

[Drew Roscoe] "Booker's Kin, lives a few blocks off from me, works for-..."

She trailed off, but not because of the fight occurring in the circle that Joe paced anxiously outside of, back and forth to one side of her. Her fingers loosened on her beer glass, enough that it slipped, but she caught it before it fell and beverage was spilled. Her eyes dropped from the pair in the circle to the stamped-down grass beneath their feet.

She swallowed a little to hard, huffed her exhale too loudly, and then was quiet.

[Odins Eye] The two Fenrir stare at each other, eyes of steel meeting those of chill blue... The Modi stares down at the Rotagar, his teeth likewise barred... Until eventually, Matthias' lips draw back in a full snarl and he swings a meaty fist at Karl's head.

It hits... Something.

Then, with a low growl in his throat, Matthias stalks back toward the woods whence he came... A distinct urge to kill growing steadily stronger within him. He reaches the woods and melts into the form of a pure gray wolf...

A low, baleful growl sounds from the wolf's muzzle as it disappears from view, licking its chops hungrily.

[Josie Clark] Her head snaps towards the direction of the growl, her muscles are tense, and she isn't blinking, she isn't wavering, she isn't looking away. No, no in fact, Jocelyn Clark is sitting quite, quite still. Whatever words were there were gone. Whatever words were there lost, and the female sits.

She shouldn't be that still. She watches as the wolf, pure grey, stalks off into the woods.

There's no world outside of her observation at that point.

[Izzy Montoya] Izzy's attention is drawn to the circle, and the tension ratchets a bit tighter along the base of her spine. She forgets her cigarette for a moment, two, and then she lifts it to her lips and takes a deep drag. It's no accident that her right hand rests against her thigh, that her attention is locked on the circle.

The wolf takes off into the woods, and Izzy breathes again and mutters under her breath. "Christ, I hate these fucking things..."

[Trudy Adler] Her food long gone and her second beer on it's way to joining the other, she had watched the two Garou stare-down. One lost, swinging a fist at the other, and then turned and stalked off like some bully beaten by the younger, smaller kid in the school ground. She found herself snickering a quiet laugh to herself.

[Holds the Line] The Garou face each other. In the end, Odin’s eye admits defeat like a true Get of Fenris.
The punch is quick. Karl raises his hand just in time. The heavy punch connects solidly with Karl’s raised fist, hard enough to send the Rotagar a half step back.

Then it is over. Odin’s Eye turns from the Rotagar, stalking towards the woods.

Holds the Line does not follow, instead looking after the other Fenrir, breathing deeply.

The Rotagar does not move until the large Viking has gone completely out of sight. Only then does he turn towards Joe. He looks at the Jarl steadily for a moment.

“You were right Jarl War-Handed.”
Holds the Line shakes his head.
“It has been settled.”

And he turns then, searching for Moira.

[Imogen Slaughter] Doc.
"Bob." The greeting is brief, succinct and to the point. On both ends.

Colt greets her as well and receives a flick of a glance. There is marginal familiarity there - born of passing acquaintance rather than formal meetings.

Odin's Eye lashes out at Holds the Line - then stalks off, shifting mid-step to his wolf form, snarling as it disappears from view.

The kinwoman watches it from beginning to end, though she does not quite seem disturbed by it. Her attention is abstract, almost incidental.

There is no hint to her opinion of this. She merely lifts her drink and swallows deeply.

[Moira Murray] A menacing growl fills the air, Moira jerks upright, shooting up off the bench to stand up. She blinks suddenly, the corners of her mouth twitching down as she watches the results of the stare down along with the others. The Viking swings a meaty fist for Karl's head.

She flinches - eyes narrowing briefly in reaction, and then her gaze is swinging off to follow Josie's watching the gray wolf stalk off into the woods. Blue eyes snap back toward the Rotagar, her chest rising as she sucks in a deep breath. Throat rippling under heavy swallows of air as her eyes begin to widen now. Still standing at the table with Josie and Colt.

[Blood Summons] The stare down between the Modi and the Rotagar doesn't draw his attention the way it does so many others'. He seems focused on filling his beer glass without spilling any, and then for the second time tonight--the first time he's actually seeming to hear her--Kora is addressing him. As he steps back from the small army of kegs, the Godi takes a swig, then clears his throat. It does no good. It never does any good. His voice always sounds like he's recovering from a month-long bender, like he's living off of hard alcohol and chain-smoking cigarettes. The rest of him doesn't look as though he treats himself any better.

"Sorrow," he says, about the time one of the combatants slips into his wolf skin and prowls off towards the woods. That gets his attention, has his water-colored eyes leaving the females at his side to watch the Modi's path. A swallow of beer, and the recently-returned Fostern asks, "What was that all about?"

[Joe War- Handed] THAT'S it! Joe is a flurry of activity as he wrenches his jacket off and tosses it in a heap- its canvas, so the clink and grind of metal is likely due to whatever is up the sleeves and in the pockets. Grinning broadly he bends over to begin unlacing his boots, fingers quick, trembling with excitement as they fumble at the knots.

One of them is off by the time he realizes Karl has left the circle. One boot still on, he watches the Rotagar walk away- a touch crestfallen.

"But... theah's still some meat left onya! Awwwwwuh..." He grumbles at the grass, and looks dolefully to Drew. Who seems.. rather.. upset.

"Hey. Whatsa mattah?"

[John Thornton] John, for his part, just watches the two stare down... His interest turned at the sound of the growl. Then, with a sigh, he just shakes his head.

"I love family reunions."

Then, he starts to walk to the refreshments, and after a few moments, settles for a plate of food.

[Drew Roscoe] Odin's Eye snarls, swings, and stalks off toward the treeline. At some point he blurs from man to wolf, but Drew doesn't really seem to notice that. Karl addresses Joe and leaves the circle, while Joe had been leaning down to tug off his boots, apparently anxious to get some blood on his knuckles too. When he turns his head to look up to Drew, she's still staring at the grass, muscles lax enough that she looks like she's very tired, about to sit down, or like a strong breeze could knock her over.

Her answer to his question was quiet. "No one told me."

A hand lifted to scrub a thumb at the corner of her eye, and it dropped with saltwater rubbed onto the pad of it. She shook her head, shifted her feet so that she was more certain that she'd keep standing, and looked at her mostly-empty glass of beer. Chewing at the inside of her lower lip, biting it sharply, she tipped the glass and let the rest run into the dirt. "Poor kid."

[Kora] "Moira," the Skald's dark eyes track Odin's Eye as he throws a punch, then flees the circle, melting into his wolf form. There is Moira, watching, breathing deeply. Kora's eyes are fixed on her in that moment, watching the way the light cuts across the planes of her pure bred features, catches out the healthy gleam in her dark hair. The tension written into her form. Then, she glances back over at Imogen and Blood Summons, " - if I don't miss my guess."

Joe is half-way undressed by now. "He's ready to fight. If someone doesn't oblige him, I'll have to give him a go-round."

[Trudy Adler] "I'll go." Trudy jumps up from where she's sitting as she overhears Kora. "I'm out and about, got some time away from the rug rats, nothing better then to suffer a beating by the Jarl to complete the night. No point wastin' it, now is there?"

Pulling off her jacket, she throws it down by her bag, raising up her voice: "Jarl! You and me." Nodding to the circle if he looks her way. "Let's go bare knuckled." She's reaching to yank off her well worn hiking boots and socks.

[Izzy Montoya] John walks away, and that gives her something to watch, something that isn't Fenrir searching for a fight, because hell, that's what they do. Some days, it's too much. Not the fighting - hell, she loves that - but the hypocrisy that so often goes with it.

But that doesn't matter when John starts to move away, and pulls her attention away from the snarling. She remains where she is, and remains silently smoking her cigarette. Her thoughts, once more, her own.

[Joe War- Handed] "Know wheah he is now?" Joe says it as he bends back over. Immense muscles writhe like snakes under the skin of his arms as the kid unlaces and tosses away his other boot. When he stands again, he's nearly solemn. About to finish the thought- but Trudy's challenge brings his face swinging back around like a bull in a pen, and he grins with the wide, almost wholesome zeal of youth.

If one squints just right, the swastikas and 'SS' emblems could be simple tricks of the light.

"MARRY me, Trudy!" It sounds like a 'thank you' maybe. Joe leaps into the middle of the circle, dancing from foot to foot.

"Dunno.. yowah a muddah an' all... maybe I oughta go soft on ya, huh? HUH?"

[Holds the Line] He takes a few steps towards the table where Moira is standing with Josie and Colt. His voice is low, rough, near enough a growl.

“It seems the riddle is solved, Flame of my Heart. I simply wish someone would have told me it was solved before it began.”
Moira has learned to read the Rotagar. Where other see that icy cold exterior, Moira sees more, deep in those glacial eyes.

And Karl continues walking, as if to continue past the table to some other destination in the clearing.

[Imogen Slaughter] Moira, says Kora, and Imogen flicks a glance toward the Fenrir kinfolk, an eyebrow arching.

"I imagine so," she says after a beat.

Kora suggests that Joe is in need of a fight, and Trudy, unfamiliar to the kinwoman leaps up to oblige. The beginning smack-talk provokes a smirk.

"And this is what yer tribe does," this, absent to Kora.

"I think I'll go before they spill blood," she says, wryly. "S'too much for my tender constitution." That the kinwoman delivers the line dead-pan does not change the absurdity of it.

She takes another deep drink of her beer, before turning away to dump the remainder on the patch of grass which Kora has already watered. One for the living one for the dead. Her farewell includes both Blood Summons and the Skald.

"Enjoy yer night."

[Trudy Adler] Laughing at that, she called out a hearty, "Fuck you, little boy. I'm going to teach that mouth of yours some manners." She knows, fully well, that the Modi is probably going to beat her to a pulp. But, there's a certain satisfaction in that. Blood and adrenalin pumping, she couldn't very well attend a Fenrir Moot and not get bloodied and bruised, or broken.

As she approaches the challenge circle, but before she steps into it, she's retying her hair into a ponytail and wrapping it into a loose knot. "And just maybe, Jarl, you can teach this old wolf a few tricks or two." Which had been the whole point of wanting to go bare knuckled. To pick up some skill, test it out, not to just tear shit to pieces with their teeth and claws.

Then she steps into the circle, bare foot and in jeans and a t.shirt. She's probably got ten years on Joe, but that matters little in the world of Garou.

[Drew Roscoe] There was little in the way of reassurance or sympathy or coddling here. Drew knew that already, she didn't expect much in the way of such things. Garou were tough and hard, not entirely man, not entirely wolf, but completely beast. War and Death were commonplace for them, from what she understood the ultimate goal was to die in battle (though she thought it was to win the battle, that made more sense). They had their time to mourn the fallen Lupus, but the news is brand new to Drew, and she couldn't decide which was worse-- the fact that he died, or the fact that it was so expected that no one bothered to speak of it afterward.

Joe said something with the inflection of questioning at the end of it, and Drew looked at him for clarification, but already he was hopping into the circle because the woman introduced as Trudy, someone she'd certainly never seen before, had challenged him, though over what was left unseen. Both were smiling, so this had to be for sport.

The Kin's mouth set in a funny sort of line, caught between displeasure and a negatively-geared kind of awe. She shifted her hiking boots backward through the grass, glanced down at the toes of them, then up to Joe's face, all shining with excitement and pure joy. She shook her head some and turned her back to the circle, walking instead to the charred mark in the earth that was the fire pit that bonfires roared to life in four times a year, but not tonight. Instead it housed the carcass of a deer, uncooked and untouched aside from the claws and teeth that killed it.

Here, just outside the stink of death and the cloud of gnats and flies that swarmed the meat, Drew settled in the grass and crossed her legs.

[John Thornton] John goes back to where Izzy stands, taking a bite of the food and offering her some as well. He stands without the circle, watching...

Then, once the food is eaten, he turns to Izzy.

"I have some paperwork to finish yet tonight... I should go."

[Kora] There is a subtle snort at Imogen's wry line about her tender constitution; a twist of her mouth that is the closest Kora ever comes to a true smirk. It sparks something brighter in her eyes, though, gleaming over the lip of the beer glass as she watches the back-and-forth before the promised fisticuffs.

Then, Imogen is stepping away. "Night, doc - " Kora says, lifting her eyes from the promised fight, casting a glance over her right shoulder long enough to track Imogen's path away from the circle of the fitful firelight. " - thanks for coming out." She lifts her beer glass in a vague toast in Imogen's direction, before turning back to the fight.

[Izzy Montoya] She accepts the offer, when John returns, and then - as he mentions paperwork again, the tension drains from her shoulders, slides through her form and away as she nods slightly.

"I've some files that you should look at tonight, too." The corner of her lips quirks upwards, slightly. "So, how bout I join you?"

[Joe War- Handed] In reply to Trudy's taunt, Joe grins broadly, makes a kissy face, and waggles his eyebrows. "Don' use yowah cane Ma- dat's cheatin!"

Then its on.

[Blood Summons] "You do the same," Bob tells the kinswoman.

The oncoming brawl steals his gaze then, the powerfully-built blonde squaring off against the Jarl, and he indicates the challenge circle to Kora with a tilt of his head before he heads in that direction, his combat boots causing the grass to cry out beneath his feet as he walks.

[Imogen Slaughter] Thanks for coming out. Imogen flicks her fingers in an absent gesture, almost dismissive. She does not waste much time on goodbyes, though Moira might get a nod if the redhaired kinwoman - so starkly different from the Northern Blooded Fenrir - happens to catch her eye.

She heads out of the clearing and back toward the path she'd taken to get here in the first place, familiar to her by now, as she heads back towards her car.

[John Thornton] John nods, smiling a bit more genuinely than before...

"Meet you there."

And with that, John turns, reaching into his trench coat pocket to withdraw the flashlight. The white beam shines brightly into the woods...

Perhaps in spite of himself, John draws the gun at his side as well... Just in case.

[Moira Murray] She can read the look in his eyes - a bit more deeply than others may try to perceive it. Moira lowers her gaze, shaking her head as she shoves away from the table. She extends a hand out to grab for her bag, looping her arms through the straps and hitching it up onto her shoulders. Moira flinches at Karl's words when he passed by. She sighs, pushing away from the table. Her head turning to follow his path through the clearing and to where she settles.

"Good night, Imogen..." A call to the red head who was starting to leave, she considers saying more, but doesn't just a nod to the redhead. Moira looks around trying to decide what to do.

[Izzy Montoya] She chuckles, briefly, and then simply turns to the path, and makes her way through the trail in his wake. She'd warned Moira she wouldn't be around long, and likely would leave without a word...

..and that's exactly what she does. After all, there is paperwork to see too...

[Kora] Sorrow pauses to refill her beer - and to retrieve the victor's stein from the picnic table, filling it with beer from the "good" cask - then catches up to Blood Summons as he crosses the clearing to the edge of the challenge circle. She has the stein in her left hand, the base resting against her thigh, and the glass in her right, held against her stomach as she settles in to watch the promised fight.

[Silence] This isn't even fashionably late anymore. This is just late. Like he forgot all about it, or like he doesn't give a damn anymore.

Silence does turn up, though. Eventually. He doesn't announce his presence. He doesn't swagger up. He's just there, standing apart from all the others, the young Fenrir that made up what was purportedly his tribe in this sept. Hard to say when he showed up, exactly, but the rage that beats off him, counteracted by an iron fist of a will, makes him unmistakable. And sooner or later, it's impossible not to notice.

He watches Imogen go, though, and doesn't move to stop her. He lifts an arm. Points after her.

"That's my mate."

He points at Moira.

"That's my kin."

His hand drops back to his side. Grey eyes like a storm sweep slowly over the gathered, reading faces, looking for any reaction other than acquiescence.

[Holds the Line] Karl doesnt go far. The moot is far from over, and the rotagar finds he has energy to burn away.

He spots Izzy and John as they leave. He had been to caught up to notice the other Kin. He watches them for a short while, then turns to watch the fight that is about to start.

He lets his gaze sweep over those still gathered before settling on Trudy and the Jarl, watching with interest.

[Kora] "You and me, next?" she says to the Fostern as she ambles up, her head canting sidelong, her pale hair loose around her shoulders. The fire is at their backs, now, so there's no spark in her eyes, just shadow, dark, the vague gleam of reflected starlight.

[Holds the Line] ((Scratch that last post!))

[Josie Clark] That's my mate.

Silence points at Moira.

That's my kin.

She blinks once, then twice, then gets another drink and gets back to watching. Blessed be some booze.

[Imogen Slaughter] Silence appears like a rage storm - and Imogen turns briefly toward the sound of his voice, not yet out of sight and therefore, not yet out of hearing.

A pause, her gaze touching on the Fenrir who stakes his claim so boldly.

(The Fenrir who is has earned the right to stake his claim with no argument. These cliaths haven't even the right to challenge him)

A muscle moves in her jaw - she says nothing. Does nothing.

Merely turns and completes her original intention: She leaves the Fenrir to their business.

[Holds the Line] Karl is about to watch the fight, when a presence arrives among them. It is undeniable. It is More then any other here. Karl turns his gaze to the Athro Fenrir and watches him point after Imogen.
Message taken. Don’t touch.
Then he points to Moira.
(That’s my kin)

Karl draws a deep breath. He doesn’t even glance to Moira. There is no room for doubt or Hesitation. No room for doubt.
“I Challenge your claim, Silence-Rhya.”

Karl takes a step towards the Modi.
Silence is More.
Silence is Athro.
Silence is in Karl’s way.

[Moira Murray] That's my kin.

"Awe fuck me..." as a dead Rotagar used to say quite frequently...

Moira was about to step away from the table, her mouth dropping open as she blinks and stares at Silence. Her eyes quickly snapping around to look for Karl.

Karl challenges. (Three days later, few mourners attend Karl's Gathering...)

She going to grow dizzy with all the turning she's doing, Moira looks up at Decker. Lips pressed into a thin line, "What?"

[Joe War- Handed] Its a brief, laughing exchange that soon gives way to grunts and the smack of fists on flesh. Eventually Joe's on the ground, and Trudys knees are digging into his chest. Like bull riding- except there's more blood involved.

Joe smiles through a bloody grin- that disappears the moment Silence speaks. His face jerks to the side, and all joking is gone from his features.

"Get up, killah."

[Joe War- Handed] (mod previous post. Joe won. Had trouble deciphering the rolls.*L*)

[Blood Summons] With his shoulders back and his spine straight, the Godi still doesn't manage to look as tall as some of their tribesmen. He doesn't cut a physically impressive figure: his muscles are visible but lean, his body made up of hard lines and little bulk, and despite the battle scars and the tattoos, he looks as though it would take little work to pound him into the ground.

The Skald makes a proposition, and Blood Summons looks over at her as the Athro arrives at the clearing, pointing to various Kinfolk and proclaiming them to be his in some fashion or another.

"You're on," he says.

That's about the time Karl challenges Decker for his claim over Moira. The Godi glances away from the circle to look over at the Rotagar, his brow knit into an expression that can be briefly read as: Oh, shit.

He drains his beer.

[Trudy Adler] For a good, bloody moment she had been throwing solid shots, dodging others, and getting floored by harder more accurate punches from the Modi, and it's she that ends up on the floor, being ground by knees in the chest and spitting blood from her mouth. They were both looking towards Silence and the relatively quietness that has settled over the camp area. Tension rides the air, now, instead of banter. She pats the Jarls leg, motions for him to get up - he was the victor, and rolled to her feet spitting another gob of blood to the ground again, as she tries to get a hold on what was going on.

[Joe War- Handed] Joe doesn't help Trudy to her feet. Instead, the bullish kid is looking from Silence to Moira, drops of blood dripping from the artfully destroyed mass of nose that's been broken many, many times before. He forgets himself for a moment, then hops up from Trudy's chest.

Another cliath in the crowd for a moment, before his eyes settle like gleaming stones on Moira.

[Kora] "Brilliant." - this is Kora's quiet reply to Blood Summons' you're on.

When the fight is over, Kora holds out the nearly full stein to Joe as he and Trudy rise from the ground, bloodied and - not laughing, not now. Not with Silence's appearance, not with Karl's challenge. Still, wordlessly, the Skald offers the stein to her Alpha, pivoting on the damp, trampled grass at the edges of the circle, her own attention swinging neatly between Silence, Karl and Moira. The bout with the Godi is forgotten for the moment.

[Silence] Karl speaks. Silence's eyes skate directly to him, flicking like stones. His head turns a moment later, faces the Cliath he's only seen once before. Silence's nostrils flare. He sniffs, once, sharp and long.

A pause. Then one word. No explanations:

"No."

[Drew Roscoe] A presence blew into the clearing like a sharp, hot wind that cut across desert, cutting you with the sand that it carried, not allowing you to ignore or forget it. Drew glanced over her shoulder toward the more central point of the gathering place, where people had stilled and quieted and turned to watch, to see Silence and the New Moon that stood up to him, to look at the black-haired Kinfolk that it was all about.

She licked at her lips, shook her head, and looked back to the dead deer gone to waste.

[Imogen Slaughter] (thanks for the scene, all!)

[Joe War- Handed] Surprise, then concentration each pass in turn across Joe's broad face. His attention remains on Silence.. then Moira.. and back again.

Damnit. His gum is all the way over there in his jacket. Gonna have to think without it. Thankfully it doesn't take him long to arrive at a decision. Of the two options that occur to Joe regarding the kinwoman so often a bone of contention, only one works.

The third would not come to him for some time.

"Silence-rhya. Can I challenge feh 'er? Dat goyl cut loose widdout a mate aint been a good t'ing sah far."

[Trudy Adler] "Can I interject here?" The Philodox doesn't wait for an answer though, even if it is the Jarl. She had came out of the circle bloody and moves to stand a step behind and beside the Jarl, looking at the highest ranked Garou of the Tribe.

"Silence -rhya, when the Kinfolk introduced herself earlier, she said she was formerly a ward of yours. There seems to be some communication going awry." She's not saying anything about Karl's challenge. Silence had the right to refuse it, or beat the Cliath into a bloody, limp biscuit.

[Moira Murray] Moira folds her arms across her chest, she brings a hand up to press fingers to the bridge of her nose, head dropping down into her palm. Joe's offer to challenge draws the kinfolk's narrowed gaze to him. Her nostrils flaring out.

"You have a mate, War-Hand," she replies whether he listens to her or not, "And there is the fact that I am still widowed not even two months from my last mate."

[Holds the Line] It is like a hammer stroke.
Karl levels the challenge.
Silence refuses it.
There is too much between them. The cliath and the Athro.
It is Decker’s right, and Karl stands powerless, without right in the nations eyes.

Karl looks from Silence then.
That glacial gaze goes to Moira. He watches her in silence for the space of three deep breaths.
Then he turns back to Silence, and moves forward.

Karl has Breeding.
Silence is as Heroes reborn

Holds the Line has a strong will.
Silence is Unbreakable.

The Rotagar has Rage to match the other Modi gathered.
Silence has enough to scorch the clearing.

Karl stops in front of the Athro. He looks at him, yet he is unable to meet the others gaze.
Silence is More.

“What will it take?”

[Silence] The Modi rolls his neck, that complex weave of muscle in the upper back, in the shoulders shifting, bunching, releasing. His head locks back into place, his jaw is set, chin lowered like a bull an second before the charge. Eyes fast on the younger Modi now:

"She's. My. Kin."

He enunciates every word; low, deliberate, like laying stones down across a seething bed of coals. There's a hard pause, a beat where all the concentrated weight of his presence presses down on Joe.

Then his eyes flick to Karl. To Joe. Back.

"If 'n when she's ready, you'll gitcher crack."

[Moira Murray] "Decker..." She speaks loudly and clearly, tilting her chin up to look at the Athro Modi, "No."

She points to the Rotagar, gestures to Karl. "I chosen Karl. He has been serving as my protector for the past couple of weeks. I want to remain with him, please."

[Joe War- Handed] It had been mostly desperation. Perhaps a glint of worry. After all, when he'd last seen their Elder, the Athro had seemed more than a little out of balance.

This is different. When Silence's gaze had settled on Joe.. it had been even. Controlled. Not a step away from lashing out. This was that origional Silence. Reseated in who he was. Joe doesn't look away- but slowly, as the realization dawns on him, a knot of tension unwinds itself from around his spine.. and Joe realizes he's looking at an Elder again. A superior, instead of the devistating thing Silence had become.

Joe's eyes find the ground in front of the elder Modi's feet, and the ghost of a smile threatens to tilt his mouth. The situation is handled.

[Trudy Adler] (ooc: leaving here. Thanks for the scene. Grab me another time if someone wants to talk with Trudy.)

[Drew Roscoe] Drama, silence, the halting of festivities boil down to the dark-haired Kinfolk and the Garou that wish to claim her. Bodies were still and eyes were watching, waiting for the tension to fade from the air, for silence to place down his final word, for a conclusion, solid and heavy as the head of a hammer, to come down and put an end to the conversation entirely. Those gathered knew how this would end. Decker was not a man to be swayed, no matter how big the baby blues aimed up at him were.

With a bit of a groan, and a mutter under her breath to no one that was too quiet for even the nearest person to decipher into intelligible language, Drew pushed herself up onto her feet, brushed off the ass of her jeans, and tread softly over to Joe's side. Her fingers touched his arm just below the elbow, and her words were light when she spoke to him, body rocked up so she was standing on her toes, chin tipped up so she could speak into his ear and not be so loud as to interrupt the show.

"I'm not feelin' the festivities anymore, I'm gonna go."

[Silence] All told, this has been a progressive moot when it comes to kin. Kin are present, for one. Kin have been permitted to speak. Kin were openly lauded by the young Jarl of the Chicago Fenrir. No one so much as batted an eyelash when a kin admitted to pulling a gun on a Garou.

In the Sept of the Storm Hammer, where his Athrohood was forged, Silence is considered progressive, which is not necessarily a compliment. Silence is considered unconventional, fruit fallen far from the tree: a Fenrir whose lineage is heroes and slaughterers who would take a mate not of Fenrir blood; who would stay with her despite that she has never borne him a single cub. A Fenrir who spends his days guarding a precarious Sept perched on the lip of a huge, sprawling Scab.

He's a progressive there. Here, he's brutally traditional. And when Moira speaks:

Silence stares her down.

For what it's worth, then: afterward. When she's fallen to silence. Then, he does answer her, his voice low.

"We'll discuss this shit later."

His attention moves on, then. The other Fenrir. The Cliaths and sole Fostern, young wolves who shared his blood and lineage and, it seems to him, almost nothing else. Joe, though. He has something in common with them. Shameful past or not, scars of petty human bigotry or not, there's an idealism to him, if any Fenrir could be said to possess such a thing.

If not that, then at least this: youth. Which is something all the Cliaths had. Which is something Silence, young still by human standards, a stone cold veteran by Garou measures, has long since lost.

He exhales a short breath, something like a whuff. Nods with a jerk of his chin, upward, at the younger Modi.

"War-Handed," he says, something like acknowledgment, and turns to go.

[Holds the Line] Silence turns to go.
It was settled.
Rage boils in the young Rotagar, and is crushed down, relentlessly.

Karl cannot press it now. Silence has settled it like an Athro.

As the Athro turns, so does Karl. There is a fire in his eyes. In his blood.

He looks to Moira. She had chosen him. He had chosen her.
Foolish children playing games it would seem.
Except perhaps for the children themselves.

He doesn’t look from the kin woman.

[Joe War- Handed] "Shuwah t'ing, lady. But I gotta feelin' yew might miss da main event.. yew shuuuuwah?" Joe's elation is quiet, broadcast from his face rather than his bray of a voice. The words are loud enough to be conversational-

Then his face jerks back around to Silence. Brow furrowed, as though he'd guessed the ending of a movie and it turned out differently than expected.

"uh?" He clears his throat.

"Seeya latah Silence-rhya"

[Drew Roscoe] "Yeah, I'm sure. I'll see ya at home."

She rested her cheek against the broad expanse of his upper arm for a second, taking her moment there to pull in a deep breath, to flick her eyes toward, then just as quickly away from Silence while he regarded Joe and Joe regarded him back. She had no idea how Imogen could stand to share a bed with that guy, assuming she did at all. Seeing the pair of them interact the first time she came to a Garou gathering, they seemed more the type of couple that had their own singles beds, and it was an uncertain thing as to whether they were even in the same bedroom. Had to take a spinal cord made of iron to be so close to something like that.

But he moved along, and she lifted her face away from the comfort of a similar monster's arm, that of a boy that had scared her senseless, evoked survival and defense instincts in her within the first few encounters, and slipped her hand down his arm to give his fingers a squeeze.

"Bye," was her farewell, and she turned to find the beaten path that led out to the patch of dirt intended for campers and hikers to park their vehicles in.

[Moira Murray] We'll discuss this shit later.

She is stared down. Her tongue holds its silence, cut off from any other words. She does not lower her eyes or chin until the Athro Modi is gone. She has forgotten to breath. She remembers that she is suppose to when she can feel pain in her chest.

Moira sucks in a deep breath, expels it out in a small sigh. She runs a hand cross her eyes and then looks back at the Rotagar, meets his pale blue gaze. She turns to close the distance between herself and the Rotagar. A hand comes out to lay against his arm, stretching up to press her cheek against his.

"I will speak to him." It is all she can promise.

Mouth to Karl's ear she murmurs something into it and then pulls back away from him. It seems the party was over with, and after having ruined the festivities for the Get gathered. She pulls away from Karl to walk away down the path to leave.

[Silence] [thanks for the play, folks!]

[Joe War- Handed] Joe's eyes follow Drew out toward the cars, then the burly Jarl crouches at the edge of the challenge circle, a fresh beer found from somewhere. This is the awakened stuff. Hopefully the sort that awakens a way through frustration.. finds paths where one doesn't know to look. The Mead of Poetry it is not.. but it will have to do.

[Josie Clark] Josie looks at Drew, and considers. Considers for a long time, actually. Ponders, muses, does whatever she needs to do, then she looks at Joe, "you guys gonna need help cleaning up or are we good?"

She has been here the whole time. She's been watching the whole time. hte female has grown silent, watched and took people in. She goes to pour herself another glass.

"Lemme tell ya, you guys know how to throw a party, that's for sure."

[Holds the Line] Moira comes to meet him, and lays a hand on him. He is like iron to her touch. Living breathing iron, almost scalding to the touch from the rage that broils within. She leans in to lay her cheek against his.

He closes his eyes, and his chin rests against her shoulder for the brief moment it takes for her to whisper to him. Then she is gone, moving away.

Holds the Line remains standing. He doesn’t look after her. Does not turn to follow the kin or Silence as they leave.

Instead his eyes, when they open, seek out the Jarl.
There is a fire in those eyes.

[Joe War- Handed] As Joe's hand levers the beer away from his mouth, his eyes are already on Holds the Line. A level, hard eyed gaze that seems to carry its own male understanding. He smacks his lips, puts the beer to the side, and nods once before stepping into the circle again.

Muscles boil through Joe's chest and arms as he rolls his neck and cracks his knuckles. No words, really, are necessary.

Well- they are for Josie. He casts a glance at the kinwoman, it sweeps across her speculatively.

"Yew don' gotta help, but ya can gathah up glasses an' stuff. Also- yew need ta get wit me aftah me an' Karl handle sumpfin.. I needa know wheah yowah stayin, yeah?"

After that, his attention is on Karl.

[Kora] Sorrow watches the entirety of the encounter. She watches it beginning to end. That's what she does: she watches, her dark eyes cutting from Silence to Moira to Karl to Joe and back again, watching intently as each one speaks. Watching as they leave, the way they cut through the woods, the way they disappear. To whom they whisper. To whom they say goodbye, whom they acknowledge as they pass. All that.

Then, back to Blood Summons. "Hey," quiet, a cutting upward look. " - we still doing this thing?"

[Josie Clark] She nods, and doesn't say anything now. The female moves off, starts gathering up glasses and making sure that she knows where what is. Takes note of how much beer is where, and starts to formulate an idea. A thought, something that she doesn't particularly like to think about for too long, because if she does she'll act on it.

[Holds the Line] Joe knows. There is no need for words from the Rotagar.

He moves forward near enough ripping his jacket of. It is discarded into a pile on the ground. The dark grey tee follows quickly. Just as Karl reaches the circle, he stops, and the shoes goes flying.

The Rotagar steps inot the circle, easily bouncing on the heels of his feet, and his gaze once more goes to the Jarl, waiting now.

[Blood Summons] [It's after 4AM here and I'm getting stupid *LOL* Pause for Bob and Kora!]

[Blood Summons] [Thanks for the scene, all!]

[Joe War- Handed] Joe comes at the other Fenrir in a rush. There is an understanding to battle. To what goes through a wrathful garou's head, and Joe employs it now. Presents a big, healthy, looming target just FULL of possibilities. Between the two of them, frustrations will be exorcised. Painted against the cleared circle like red ghosts.

Init +7

[Holds the Line] ((Init +7))

Karl flows into the Jarl. Only blood will quench the fire within, for the time beeing.

[Joe War- Handed] Joe is fast for someone so big. Merciless when its called for- providing when its not. He goes for big, meaty targets. To pound flesh. Spaced with the sort of cracks that bring the sort of sting one needs to find some focus. He swings for Karl's abdomen.

(punch, called shot, split: 4 dice, target 8

[Joe War- Handed] (damage: +2 for called shot, str4 sux1

[Holds the Line] ((Soak))

[Joe War- Handed] the follow up punch is with his opposite hand, a short, hammered chop of knuckles for Karl's jaw

(3 dice, diff8 again for called shot)

[Joe War- Handed] There is a loud, wet snap as one of Joe's metacarpal bones all but explodes- the fist having landed against Karl's skull. There goes that hand for a while.

[Holds the Line] Joe is fast. The Rotagar moves to strike, but Joe lands a punch in the Rotagars Gut, causing the No moon to grunt. The Jarl moves to strike again with a fist aimed for the No moons head. It takes wrong. The snap of bone announces the opening the Rotagar has waited for, and he strikes.

(5 dice, target 6)

[Joe War- Handed] (block! total pool 7-2 for botch, -2 for split, for 3)

[Holds the Line] (Damage str 3 + 0 successes = 3 dice)

[Joe War- Handed] (soak: 5 dice)

[Holds the Line] The rotagar takes the opening and strikes the Jarl on the ribs. But he miscalculated the pure steely stamina of the JArl, and the blow deflects harmlessly. It doesnt halt Karl, as he strikes out again.

(Punch, split -3 dice, pool 4)

[Holds the Line] (Damage str 3 + 1 = 4 )

[Joe War- Handed] (soak)

[Joe War- Handed] Snarl's blunting the keen edge of pain ripple through Joe's form. Both of the beast- men scratched, and were they just men, this would be time to regroup. to gain focus. Instead, both hammer at each other again, the stikes picking up speed as Joe swings a leg like a tree trunk at Karl's left thigh

(called shot, full pool-2 dice for botch)

[Joe War- Handed] (damage: strength 4+2 for called shot)

[Holds the Line] ((Soak))

[Holds the Line] The Jarl is ferocious. The Rotagar no less so. Noth grunt, there is time for little else even as Rage fuels their movements. Netiehr fo them holding back. Not the Fenrir way. Joe kicks hard and the rotagar takes it on the thigh, growling even as he strikes back with his fist.

(Rage1: Punch, -1 for wound penalty )

[Holds the Line] (Damage str = 3 )

[Joe War- Handed] (soak)

[Holds the Line] ((Declare, round 2
1a. Punch (-3 total)
1b. Punch (-4 total)

Rage1: knee (called shot kick)
))

[Joe War- Handed] A flurry of three fast blows. Things coming in more rapid succession as the two Garou lose themselves in the not-here bliss of the fight.

1a: punch
1b: punch
1c: punch(wp)

rage1: kick
rage2: punch

[Joe War- Handed] First punch is low

(dice 5-2 for split)

[Joe War- Handed] (amendment: two split actions, not three)

[Joe War- Handed] (damage: 4 dice)

[Holds the Line] (Soak)

[Joe War- Handed] punch 2. (lets hope I've got this right) amended dice pool is 5, -3 for split=2 dice)

[Joe War- Handed] (damage 4)

[Holds the Line] (Soak)

[Holds the Line] Karl is fighting with the Jarl to extinguish the fire in his blood. Yet he does not let instincts rule. He forces the animal in him that wants to force the pain away with Gaia's gift into submission.
It lets him feel each blow, each jarred muscle and bone with the Jarl’s strikes, and those strikes are true. The first low punch catching the Rotagar on the ribs. Ribs that groan under the pressure. The second punch strikes high, cracking Karl’s jaw with an audible snap of bone.

Karl is laughing, a broken, bloody sound as he tries to strike, but his body cant keep up and he stumbles.

(Wound penalty -5, split actions failed due to no dice to roll, Time for Rage actions)

[Joe War- Handed] (rage action changed to a block.)

[Holds the Line] The Rotagar does not Stop. will not stop. He rushes the Jarl again, coming up with a knee at the Jarls ribs

(Rage action 1, called shot kick -5 penalty wounds)

[Joe War- Handed] block

[Holds the Line] (Dam 3 + 1 +2 called)

[Joe War- Handed] SUrprised, and in spite of himself quite impressed with Karl's vigor, Joe grunts with the impact

[Joe War- Handed] (rage action: punch. Total of 4 dice, due to botch penalty and wound penalty)

[Joe War- Handed] (damage: 4+1)

[Holds the Line] (Soak)

[Joe War- Handed] In the end, Karl hits the beaten grass of the circle, and Joe staggers to a stop.

(And guys, its crazy late here. Gotta go to bed. Thanks for the scene!)

[Holds the Line] The Rotagar surprises the Jarl with his vigor, with his fervor. It is not enough. The last punch strikes true and sends Karl stumbling. He drops to his knees, coughing. Blood and even a few teeth splatter to the ground beneath his face. Shaky arms pushes down to force the body up.

But it isn’t enough and the get collapses, still sounding as if he is laughing. A low, deep, wet sound.

[Josie Clark] She spends her time looking at the bloody, pummeled Rotagar. She cocks her head to the side. She's one of the few remaining creatures there. She's one of the few who are still staying, still standing, still unscathed and uninjured and unshaken. Her pride is still in one piece. She has not lost a claim, she has not lost anything.

She just waits. She doesn't move to anyone's side. She doesn't do anything.

She just waits.