Ornature

[Mila Davis] Things were falling apart. Literally, and figuratively. It was a little rough on the Galliard. Mila sat at the bar of the Brotherhood tonight - alone, as usual.. because the rest of the patrons there felt the even more than usual rage seep off her form. She didn't look upset, or angry - but maybe a perhaps a little lonely, or lost in thought.

The young woman looked like she was dressed for a day at the lake - sunglasses were perched in her hair.. and flip flops on the floor in front of her chair. There were two empty glasses before her.. and one which just recently appeared to be refilled.

[Ray Ostermann] Its the first time in a good while that Ray had come to the Brotherhood, he had been finding food elsewhere, finding company elsewhere along with everything else a man needed in a night and during lunch time. But here he was, out of the blue and into the bar.

He was dressed at his business best, as was always the occasion, a finely crafted and well tailored two button suit that made him look like a million dollars, even if he was really only worth a couple hundred thousand. He didn't pause at the door in trepidation, he stepped on through, heading for the bar and waving with a grin to the serving girls as he went by them.

All until he saw Mila, for living so close to the woman, he very rarely ever saw her. Especially now, with things as they were, he may no longer be a Shadow Lord, but Mila was still a friend...and an attractive one at that.

He slipped up next to the woman and in that smooth warming voice greeted her. "Mila, what a rare opportunity."

[Mila Davis] The young woman glanced up from her glass - a small smile touching her darkly hued lips. Her makeup was smeared in just a slight manner that could make people question if she'd been crying. She'd never admit if she had. Maybe that's what the sunglasses had been for.

"Hey Ray.. would you like a drink? I've started a tab tonight.. might as well add you to it.." A beat. "Haven't seen you in awhile.. how's things?"

[Ray Ostermann] "Have I ever turned down a drink Mila?" He says with a wry smile as he slipped onto the chair next to her and looked at her appraisingly. He takes a moment then to turn his attention to the bar tender and nods with a warm friendly smile, the tender still knew what Ray drank, and so he got around to pouring out that fine whiskey the man tended to drink.

He then turns his attention back to Mila and smiled at her, his gaze somewhat enigmatic. "Things have been...interesting."

[Mila Davis] "Oh yeah? Tell me about it.. and I hope your version of interesting is better than mine lately.." As soon as Ray got her glass.. she lifted hers in a small toast.

The young woman sipped her drink then.. and sighed before putting it down. Hopefully Ray had some good news - she could totally use a little pick-me-up.

[Ray Ostermann] Ray smiled at the Shadow Lord as he raised his glass and nodded his head ever so slightly in comraderie to the woman before takin his first sip of that amber liquid. When he had finished savoring the fluid in his glass he set it down and gave Mila once more over.

"Well, I've been mated for starts." He says with a chuckle. "To Marni, the longest shot I had..and yet it panned out."

He says with a broader smile, he hoped inwardly that it would be good news...given the implications of course that he was no longer part of the Tribe.

[Mila Davis] "Congratulations.. Ray. How did it happen?" A beat.. "Are you excited?" It seemed she didn't process that he wasn't one of them anymore just yet - perhaps it would come later, but for now she looked pleased enough that her friends.. rather.. friend (Ray) was mated and they'd be able to have the baby together.

"All the more reason to celebrate I suppose.."

[Ray Ostermann] "I am...still notentirely certain what it all mean's and where its going to take us...but I am excited that we will be able to be together, without interference from Wyrmbreaker."

He was pleased that she was, she was a friend, and that mattered in these days. "It seems that it was mostly out of my own choice....Wyrmbreaker came to me and asked what my opinon was...what I would want...so I told him. And it would seem that was that." He shrugged gently at the thought, partially pleased with himself.

[Mila Davis] "That easy, eh? After all the fuss you guys went through over this.. you just got to pick? Well.. I'm glad it worked out. So.. it's offical then?" She seemed to pause then - and consider what a mating to a Bone Gnawer might mean.

"Did you move in with her yet?"

[Ray Ostermann] "Move in with her?" He asks with a wry chuckle, finding the idea somewhat silly. He shook his head and gestured to himself. "No no...she moved in with me. After all, I do have the nicer place don't i? That and I am the one with the means."

He says picking up his whiskey again and tilting it to his lips, savoring it again before looking directly at the amber liquid through the glass walls of the cup.

"It is official of course, but don't expect me to be trading my fine thousand dollar suits for rags anytime soon."

[Kyle] Kyle's Nightmare Roll

[Mila Davis] "Well.. good - I'd be sad to see you living under the bridge with her." She smiled lightly agian... and sipped her drink. Yes, more liquor was needed.

"Does the pack treat you well, Ray?"

[Kyle] Given his lack of sleep and his already pale complection, Kyle really does look like death warmed up today. His shoulder length black hair is a mess, partially tied back in a pony tail and the rest just going in what ever direction it wanted to. Around his neck is that familiar black leather collar he always wears. Tight fitting long sleeve black shirt, black jeans and heavy biker boots really gives him a skeletal appearance, all someone had to do now was draw the bones on his clothes and he'd be ready for halloween.

Making his way down from upstairs he looks around to see if he noticed any regulars tonight. Spotting Ray he casually makes his way over to the pair.

[Ray Ostermann] He chuckles at that and shrugs. "I wouldn't know, I haven't seen this pack of her's yet. She's been rather busy keeping me all to herself. We have...an agreement that we won't be to particularly involved with others, at least not in anyway that isnt entirely platonic."

He doesn't notice Kyle as the man approaches, his eyes are all for Mila at the moment as he talks to her, converses with her as a man would a beautiful woman.

[Kora] The evening is cooler than it has been in days. The sky is clear, and there's a huge moon silhouetted against the faded orange background that is the city's constant glow. Out over the lake, though - the sky is dark, and the moon glows a bright, clean silver, with a faint, gleaming halo around the disc from the lingering humidity in the air.

Inside the Brotherhood, it is still sharply cooler than without. On hot weekend nights the combination of celebrating bodies and hot ovens means that the temperature creeps up beyond the capacity of the air conditioning units. Not so tonight.

--

The front door swings open, and a tall blonde walks in. She is casually dressed, in an old Pixies t-shirt and worn jeans, with dust Doc Marten's on her feet. (Once-) multicolored laces are wrapped several times around her calves, and a brown corduroy messenger bag is against her left hip, the strap bisecting her narrow torso. She catches the closing door on its backswing with her heel and lets it ease closed rather than slamming shut, then crosses the room casually, heading toward the bar.

[Mila Davis] "Cheers then.. Ray.. I'm happy for you.." Again, she lifted her glass in a toast - before she downed the rest of the contents and motioned to the bartender for another.

"At least one of our lives are going well. My packmates are idiots.. almost literally - and the one that wasn't.. I've lost due to something Simon did.. plus.. Scott isn't around anymore.." She didn't elaborate on the last part.. she didn't dare right now - not with the liquor.. and it being so close to her moon.

[Mila Davis] Her gaze lingered for a moment on the kin she vaguely recognized. He got a little upnod in greeting.

[Kyle] Seeing that Ray is busy chatting to Mila he simply finds a seat nearby and motions for some water to one of the staff behind the bar. Gives Mila a friendly smile and nod in greeting as he sips his drink and looks around at the patrons. A slight nod in greeting to Kora if he catches her eye.

[Ray Ostermann] "Thank you Mila, I'm sorry to hear things are going so poorly with your pack. That must be quite tough for you, I know the problems that an plague a good team of individuals, I can only imagine what they must be like for a group such as yours."

He takes a moment from the conversation and notes Mila nodding to Kyle, to which Ray does as well, raising his glass to the man. But then in walks Kora, Kora of the Fenrir and a sly grin slips across the man's face as he turns towards her with a chuckle. "Kora....how lovely it is to see you again."

[Kora] Kyle is difficult to miss - between the white skin and the black clothes, the long sleeves even in the most sweltering heat of summertime - and Kora misses little. She lifts her chin in acknowledgment of the kinsman's faint nod as she slip past him. Then her dark eyes linger on Mila and Ray as she passes behind them walking toward the bar. Both receive the faint curve of a half-smile by way of acknowledgment regardless of whether or not it is returned. The first thing she says, though, is " - the Heifeweizen, thanks." to the kinsman tending bar.

Her hands are in her hip pockets, now, her elbows tight against her lean torso. The black t-shirt she wears is fitted and well-worn, showing off a narrow, boyish build made feminine only by the faint curve of her hips. Dark eyes and a generous mouth dominate her otherwise sharp features. She wears not a lick of make-up, which makes her seem washed out compared to most other women - with mascara to darken their lashes, eyeliner to emphasize their eyes, gloss or lipstick to shape their mouths - and on, and on.

She turns 'round at the bar then, leans back against the frame, her elbows propped up as she awaits her beer. "Kyle, yeah?" - to Kyle, who is briefly fixed in her gaze. He's drinking water. That won't do. " - buy you a beer?"

Then, she cuts a sidelong look at Ray, returning his sly look with one that is utterly direct. "Mr. Osterman. Stormbreaker-yuf." The last is spoken in a voice so quiet it cannot be overheard beyond the pair of them, and perhaps the kinsman at the bar.

[Mila Davis] "Hrm.. yeah.. hopefully things will turn around." Mila just sighed and a hand ran through her hair in frustration.

She seemed like she wanted to say something else to Ray.. but his attention had been drawn elsewhere, so she just went back to her drink. Kora got a small smile and a raise of her glass though - she didn't recall the woman's name at the moment. Blame it on the liquor. "Good evening.."

[Kyle] Normally he'd say no to a drink but given how lousy he feels at the moment it could well be the pickme up he needs. Smiling he gives a thumbs up to Kora as he moves closer so he can be heard. His voice hushed as he speaks with a smile in his eyes despite how he feels and looks.
"Thanks Kora. Appreciate it. How's your day been?"
Looks to Mila and Ray before speaking to them.
"Hi Ray and Mila. Hope your day's gone well."

[Ray Ostermann] Kora's look is direct and almost challenging, not that there is any real point to challenging a kin on any level. The man's smile grows wider and he chuckles, its not a loud obnoxious thing, but a chuckle like he had expected that precise reaction. "As I said...lovely to see you again Kora." He says before looking over to Kyle.

"Well enough thank you...just discussing recent event's such as my new Tribe." He says with a casual tone, before at last looking back to Mila.

"I'm sure they will Mila, your one of the most resourceful women I know."

[Mila Davis] "The BG's lucked out .. got to say I'm a little jealous.."

"Mmm.. thanks Ray.. maybe I'll feel more resourceful tomorrow.. after my long chat with Simon.."

[Kora] Mila's passing Good Evening earns her another keen-eyed look from the Fenrir. The creature's dark eyes linger on the other Galliard's face, reading her lack of recognition in the lines beneath it, in the brevity of her greeting. It lasts a moment, but the awareness sharpens in Kora's dark eyes and briefly imprints a certain ironic edge to the shape of her mouth.

Then Kyle accepts her offer of a drink, and Kora cuts a glance back over her right shoulder t the bartender, who is now drawing her Heifeweizen. "Make that two, yeah?" she appends, her voice rich and low, the supple thread of a storyteller's tones, not the musicality of a singer's speaking voice. Kyle walks up, and Mila and Ray are close enough by, so Kora simply shifts position, planting her right heel on the bottom rung of one of the barstool and levering herself upward to sit, her back to the bar

"I'm well." The answer is for Kyle. It does not precisely answer his question, but it is the answer she offers, and she says it with the sort of underlying conviction that suggests she took his passing question seriously. Maybe she's always well. She's whole and hale, her pale skin kissed by the sun on her brow, across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. " - you?"

Her beer arrives at her elbow, then. Kora shifts back, pulls it over the bartop, careful lest the head slosh over the lip of the glass, and lift it in ironic response to Ray's reiteration of his greeting. The second beer arrives a moment after, and Kora tips her head, indicating that it is for Kyle as she prompts Ray. " - your new tribe?"

[Mila Davis] {Gah.. I'm a moron.. I shoulda looked at Kora's deed name earlier.. lol. Mila totally knows who she is..}
to Kora

[Kora] (grins) then I'll assume that Kora's just figured out that Mila's drunk, cool?
to Mila Davis

[Kyle] "I'm breathing which is always a good thing. Thanks."
Takes the offered beer as he smiles at Kora and then sips at the drink as he watches the others

[Mila Davis] {Please do! *chuckles*}
to Kora

[Ray Ostermann] "Yes, Thunder holds no sway over my life...not anymore." He says with a shake of his head as he gestures up and down his body with a free hand, as if to indicate the obvious change within himself.

"I am now part of Rat's children."

[Victor Oseragighte] (( Upstairs or downstairs? ))
to Kora

[Kora] Downstairs in the bar!
to Victor Oseragighte

[Mila Davis] How many glasses had it been? God, she didn't remember anymore. But.. what did it really matter? An elbow rested upon the bar and her chin upon her hand.. the other hand toyed with the straw in her drink.

She watched Kora for a moment.. before her drunken brain finally got around to processing. Oooh.. it was the new Tailsinger.. the woman she'd wanted to win.. and did. She was good.. she smiled briefly thinking about it.. yeah.. Mila was a little worthless tonight.

Between her Pack going to hell.. her mate being dead and all.. and Ray now being a BeeGee.. this night really didn't get much worse.

[Victor Oseragighte] Despite the fact that Victor's been gone all day, when he comes into the bar it's by descending from upstairs. He pauses at the doorway and considers those present, picking out familiar faces in silence, his thoughts his own behind those black eyes.

Hard-toed boots, brown dungarees, and a blue and red Montreal Alouettes jersey make up his fairly simple garb.

[Kora] "Cheers," to Kyle as he takes the second Heifeweizen from the dark wood of the bartop. The wheat beer is pale and cloudy, a hint of a golden cast to it, with a sharp forward mouth and the faint aftertaste of bananas, just a hint sweet on the finish. Kora inhales the yeasty scent of the sparking, fizzing head for a long, slow moment, then brings the brew to her mouth, drinking.

She has a mouthful of beer when Ray passes on his news, gesturing up and down his body. The Fenrir's dark eyes flick him head to toe, as if something might be gained by such a demonstration. Then her eyes settle on his face, just narrowed - not his eyes but the shape of his jaw, the way muscles move beneath his skin.

"Congrats to whomever won you." There's a subtle lift of her brow at the end of the offer, before her attention cuts back to Mila, staring morosely into her drink now, stirring the alcohol and mixer, the melting ice cubes with the decorative little straw.

"There's something wrong." The last is to Mila. There can be no mistaking it: the Skald's attention is sharpened on the Shadow Lord now, her question incisive and direct but not abrupt. "What happened?"

[Mila Davis] "Mm.. it's ok.. just some personal stuff going to hell. Nothing that we need to bring the night down with. We're celebrating Ray's finding of love tonight.. " Apparently, for once, the Galliard didn't have a ton to say. If Kora forced the issue, she'd answer further.. but until then, she'd just leave it brief.

[Victor Oseragighte] Crossing the room, he takes his time, noting regulars, faces he's likely to see often here who aren't the upstairs crowd. Was good to keep track of this sort of thing. The Wendigo reaches the bar, though, and points to the tap before holding up a finger and gesturing to himself. Up onto a stool and he leans forward and nods to Kora and her companions.

[Kora] "Love?" - there is a faint quirk, then. A twist of the creature's eyebrows, and a slanting look back at Ray. "Is that what you're celebrating, Mr. Osterman?"

Then, she shoots a glance back to Mila. It's okay - the Shadow Lord asserts - just some personal stuff and this offhanded response earns her another measure of scrutiny. Kora has her beer in hand now, and is half swung around on the barstool, her right elbow on then polished surface, her beer in her left hand. As she studies Mila, Kora is unreadable, not because she is so skilled at concealing her thoughts behind a polite veneer, but because she withholds judgment, watching and assessing because she comes to anything like a conclusion.

"Just some personal stuff." She echoes to Mila at last, the statement flat enough that it could be read as an invitation to further revelations, or a bookend to Mila's assertion. Drunk as she is, the Shadow Lord must still feel the hint of the Fenrir's regard upon her, still and watchful until Victor approaches the bar.

"Victor," Kora greets him. Then: introductions, "Kyle," a tip of her head toward the pale-skinned, black-clothed kinsman "Ray." Indicating the Shadow Lord-tured Bone Gnawer. "Mila."

[Kyle] Turns to look at Victor and gives a wide smile a she speaks in a hushed tone.
"Hi there."
A casual wave in greeting as he sips at his drink

[Ray Ostermann] "Not love...not yet anyways, I'm not so presumptious to assume that just because someone won a challenge for me that it is love. But shall we call it...open negotiations with a specific individual in that field of acquisition." He chuckles for himself finding the idea funny, especialy given who he was now mated to.

[Mila Davis] "I found out today that my mate's dead. A car accident after a high speed chase down in Missouri.. So.. yeah. Sucky stuff. And, I lost a potential packmate due to one of my other packmates being dumb in some fashion.. So I have to deal with that now too."

She took another moment to stir her drink with her straw before taking a sip.. and replacing the glass on the coaster. "So.. personal stuff. Not exactly the type of thing that you want to shout out at a little gathering. I need about eight more drinks for that.."

Her blue-grey gaze shifted for a moment from the other Galliard who didn't want to give it up.. to the newcommer.. who she'd met once or so.. he knew her dumb ass packmate quite well. He got a nod in greeting.. Kora had introduced her, it was good enough for now.

[Victor Oseragighte] His drink arrives and a hand wraps about it, raising it in silent salute to those introduced. At Mila's comments about her losses, he lowered it and nodded respectfully to her, offering his condolences without having to say a word yet.

[Kora] Per [observant] + Empathy :: how do you really feel, Ray?
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 6, 8, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 5 at target 6)
to Ray Ostermann

[Ray Ostermann] [He's excited, in a way glad to be free of a great deal of control, or at least what he felt was overbearing control on behalf of his former tribe, but he is wary, and he is ready for any signs of duplicity from the Gnawers as well, he's happy his warder won him, but at the same time, he questions wether love is really in the cards at all.]
to Kora

[Kora] A glance in the middle at Ray, as he makes his mergers and acquisitions joke. It is one that Kora does not understand, not fully. Perhaps not at all. It matters little; her eyes linger on the way his mouth moves as he chuckles quietly to himself, enjoying the shape of his own joke.

The creature takes another deep drink from her beer, lifting it casually to her mouth, her fingers spread around the rim of the glass, the warm lights of bar gleaming in both the prism of the glass and the murky depths of the liquid inside with the movement. Kora watches Mila over the rim of her glass, her dark eyes gleaming, her pale skin a stark contrast to the dark, worn fabric of her PIXIES t-shirt. The latter has been washed so many times that it is no longer black so much as a memory of black, soft from a thousand thousand washings, and well-fitted to the tall Skald's narrow frame.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Kora says, quietly. "And I'll remember his story, if you'd like to share it some day."

The rest of Mila's woes go - unremarked upon. If there is a certain sharpening in the creature's attention, it can easily be written off to the way light cuts across the surface of her drink. Which she is finishing now, lifting to her mouth and drinking it back. Gesturing to the bartender for another round, indicating all present - except herself.

[Mila Davis] "Thanks.." Her glass was again brought to her lips for a small sip. "Perhaps I will, when the wounds aren't so fresh." The rest of the day.. well, that really wasn' what was bothering her - it just was an insult added to injury.

"Nothing like a little bad news to stop a conversation cold." There was other things that were weighing on her mind and bringing her spirits down, but those were even more personal than the loss of her mate.. and that didn't need to be shared. It was her personal loss, no one else in the world would ever know about it.

"So.. has anyone got any good news.. or interesting news to share - to change the topic?" Ray got a little look. He didn't love Marni yet? After all that.. he still didn't love her?

[Ray Ostermann] Mila drops the bomb shell, and Ray's smile falters, and then fades away and he puts a hand on Mila's shoulder and gave her a small, personal smile, not one thats happy, but one that's reassuring, and friendly.

"I'm sorry to hear that Mila,like you said to Kora...we can talk about that later if you want."

[Kyle] Hearing Mila's words he bows his head a moment then gulps down a good portion of his drink. Looking at the others he smiles and shrugs.
"Sorry not much of a conversationalist myself. Been on a roam for the last few weeks so out of touch gossip wise."

[Kora] There's a flicker of her dark eyes, from Mile to Ray and back again, all this over the surface of her drink. The Skald finishes the remaining quarter of the Heifewiezen drinking steadily and surely, then sets the empty glass on the bar as she reaches back to pull her passport from her right hip pocket. Tucked into the dark blue jacket of the passport are a twenty and a ten. After a moment's hesitation as she mentally counts the drinks she has purchased against some invisible yardstick of the cost of a drink, Kora pushes both bills across the counter. Now there's nothing in the passport except an old picture and far too many entry and exit stamps, temporary visas and the like.

The Skald waves off the change. "I'm sorry." This to Mila and Ray, the remnants of a lingering look for the former. The hint of a twist to her mouth. " - but I have duties tonight. Another time, yeah?"

With that, and a faint lift of her chin by way of farewell to Kyle and Victor, Kora - whose deed name after all is Sorrow, not Joy - slips down from the barstool and takes her leave, as quickly and quietly as she arrived.

[Sarah Madison Kerensky] [*decides to keep this character instead of changing* Who's posting up first!]

[Imogen Slaughter] (I'll post)

[Imogen Slaughter] Hot sticky days. Heat, weather, unpleasant. Chicago is disgusting in summer. The wind never stops, but it just grows hotter. It picks up dust and dirt and dried filth and carries it with it on the breeze. It sticks to the skin, leaving behind a film of the scab.

The proximity of water does nothing to alleviate the weather, and in fact, only seems to make the humidity worse, but at least the breeze off the lake is cleaner.

Imogen is pulling herself up a concrete embankment her hands planted on the balustrade, the muscles of her bare arms standing out in definition as she hauls herself up by the strength of her upper arms, at least until she can lift a knee over the edge, and find an easier method of getting back over to the pedestrian sidewalk.

She brushes off her hands and shakes out her arms, her gaze flicking down the walk and back again. The lake is at her back. Her shoes are muddied, as are the cuffs of her jeans. There's a jacket laid askew against the embankment. She picks it up, shaking it out before slipping back into it.

[Kora] The evening is hot, sticky and humid, even with the sun falling to a fat, hot ball somewhere in the west, behind the downtown apartment buildings, heat lingers like a haze through the park. This close to the lake, everything feels heavier, drenched in moisture, humming with insects that drone in the summer heat. The sky is partially occluded by heavy summer storm clouds, and there's a promise of rain in the air - that lingering sense of expectancy which can only be fulfilled by a sudden cloudburst.

"Doc - " the Fenrir is perched on the back of a park bench close to where Imogen's jacket had been discarded on the embankment. Her feet are on he seat, and she's neatly balanced between the seat and the back. There's a certain wry curl to her mouth when she continues, "I'm going to guess that you weren't fishing." Lifting her chin back down the embankment, the lake hidden below, she finishes, " - need help with something down there?"

There's a hot dog half-eaten in a wrapper close to her foot, and a bottle of water in her right hand. She's dressed for the weather, in a tank top that leaves the rather strong shape of her narrow shoulders bare, showing off what is clearly a farmer's tan, darker. Her forearms and the lower half of her upper arms are more tanned than her shoulders and upper arms.

[Kyle] Tugging at the leather collar around his neck, Kyle groans as he looks up at the sky. He could handle heat but this muggy weather bugged him big time. He was tempted to roll up his long sleevse on his shirt but remembering the looks he got last time he did that he decides not to freak people out. Absently he pulls an elastic band from his pocket and ties his hair back into a pony tail to give his neck a little more air.

Spotting a familiar figure ahead in the form of Imogen he casually wanders towards her and Kora. Clad all in black with that white pale skin he looks like a typical goth. Today he's sporting a new pair of silver rimmed classes with blue tinted lenses. Why someone would be wearing long sleeved clothes, heavy biking boots, jeans and a leather collar in this weather is anyone guess.

Once close enough he slips the guitar case over his shoulder so his hand can give a casaul wave in greeting.

[Sarah Madison Kerensky] There's plenty of reasons to hate a city, and Sarah is discovering just how much she hates a city today. This heat, the moisture in the air, the filth of everything is almost strong enough to gag on in some parts. Out here it's not so bad. There's slightly cleaner air, coming up off the water, which isn't exactly freshwater even if it's meant to be one of the cleanest lakes in the country. It's not home. It's not woodlands and streams or tall mountains and valleys.

But it's where she is, walking along the path that will take her past Kora and Imogen. The woman climbing over the embankment had caught her eye. Sunshades conceal them, perched on a lean, pert ended nose. Sarah is dressed in a pair of shorts, volleys and a simple t.shirt. She looks like she should be in California.

[Imogen Slaughter] She shakes her head slightly, glancing briefly in Kora's direction before looking down at her hands, the palms first, then the backs. Imogen dusts them off absently on the thighs of her jeans.

"False alarm," she says. "There's one bloody bloke who thinks everything is a tainted creature." She does not smirk though her mouth threatens it. Her eyes do not come close, as she turns her head to look back at the Skald.

"But one day he might be right, so."

Kyle approaches, and Imogen watches him as he does. "Kinfolk," she says, simply, quietly in Kora's direction, a word heard only between them. "Kyle," she greets him when he's close enough. There's no warmth there, though there has never been.

(Lost the rest of the scene!)

[Slaughter] "Clap him on the back or something," this to Kora.

"Before he vomits or something."

[Slaughter] (remove the last "or something"! Jeesh)

[Sorrow] "Thanks doc," back to Imogen, in a low sardonic voice. For sparing her the lecture. Roman is slowly losing it beside, like a bank saturated with rain crumbling onto the road below. When Erika discusses her manicure, she receives a direct, dark-eyed glance from the Skald. "I'm surprised. A manicure wouldn't last a night on me."

Maybe Silver Fangs had a different - less martial - approach to war.

Then Imogen suggests that Kora clap Roman on the back. Kora glances between the sundae and the bowl full and sprinkles and the slowly-choking Ragabash, and claps him on the back.

[Sorrow] Dex + Brawl! Dif 6

[Sorrow] Bashing damage - clapping Roman on the back!

[Slaughter] (....)

[Roman Turner] A clap on the back was just what he needed. He was still swiping at his eyes, trying to get himself under control when he turned his head to Erika and rasped out.

"My apologies Ma'am. It's just not everyday I see a Kin completely ignore a question from a True in favor of studying her nails and all."

[Erika Irina Alexander] Seems completely confused and alarmed. Something about her tenses up, looking from one to the other. "I'm sorry," she is quick to say. "I.... missed it. I didn't mean..." Erika becomes rather spooked. The blonde kin rubs at her right cheek, keeping her hand there.

[Roman Turner] "Well ma'am, it might be because ya got so intent on your fingernails there that ya became mesmerized? Miss Kora asked ya if the Master's degree was the difference because ya seemed to look down upon counselors with your comment there."

[Erika Irina Alexander] Shaking, the thirty-year-old seems more than a little uneasy. The kinfolk tries to regain her composure a bit, placing her hand on the table. She breathes slowly, deliberately, and keeps her eyes down.

"I didn't think she needed my confirmation. I meant no disrespect."

[Slaughter] Imogen's watching Erika now, her gaze intent, her eyes narrowed. There is a certain directness to the way she looks at the other woman. A sharp edged perception. There is no empathy.

Still:

"That's enough, Roman."

Imogen is kinfolk. She speaks in ways most would never dare. Not even with one so young.

[Sorrow] So: Roman is saved from choking. Kora hits him squarely between the shoulder blades with the heel of her palm, hardly enough that the impact has a sort of resonance in the young Garou's chest, hard enough to sting, but not really hard enough to do anything more than inconvenience the kid. Erika gets a spooked look on her face, and reaches up to touch her old scars. Kora glances from the kinswoman to Roman, then back again.

There's a faint curl of a frown on her mouth then; call it - thoughtful. The look isn't for Erika, but for Imogen, "Hey doc, I'm not sure I told you yet, but if you find any stray Fenrir, kin or Garou, I'd appreciate it if you sent them to me, yeah?"

Back to Erika, then, as the kinswoman struggles to regain her composure. "None taken," Kora says, quietly.

[Roman Turner] He shook his head and pushed out of the booth.

"I don't mean to scare ya or make ya start babbling. Ya should just be aware of your environment and what's going on around ya. Becoming lost in envy over another's nail paint leaves ya vulnerable."

He nodded to the group.

"Sorry to disrupt supper. There's still some ice cream there and sprinkles, help yourself."

He fished out his wallet then headed for the counter with his hat tucked under one arm so he had both hands free to pull out a bill he placed on the counter calling to the waitress.

"Mighty fine ice cream sundae, Ma'am. Thank ya kindly."

[Roman Turner] He nodded towards the group at the table as he headed for the door. Kora would see him later on patrols. For now he opened the door the heat and stepped out where he could be seen settling the hat on his head before heading off up the street into the dark.

((Thanks for the play!))

[Slaughter] "Goodnight, Roman." Mildly answered as Imogen picks up her coffee and drains it to its cooling dregs. A flick of her gaze toward Kora as she starts to get up. By now, Roman's out the door. "I'll send Fenrir to you," she says.

"And I ha' somethin' to show you, if you ha' the time." Her eyes move to Erika, "You mentioned you ha' clients to see," she notes, mildly. "I'd hate to keep you from them. Enjoy the reminder o' yer evening."

[Erika Irina Alexander] Remains quiet, hoping desperately for her drink of choice or something to keep her from having a panic attack on the spot. She fumbles for her wallet, takes out thirty, and leaves it on the table. "Keep your money. I'll take care of it."
Erika wasn't looking for empathy, not at all. She keeps her eyes down, thinking of things she buried in her past long ago. Maybe there's a reason she's gone all this time alone and filled her schedule with work.

[Erika Irina Alexander] ((Woah, delayed. Grr Stupid Jove))

[Erika Irina Alexander] Erika gladly takes the invitation to leave. She takes a breath and forces a smile, checking her watch. "Yes, well just the last for today." She takes out two business cards and gives one to Kora, one to Imogen.
"In case either of you need to contact me." One quick gaze to Kora before quietly managing, "Elder, again I'm sorry."

[Sorrow] "Sure thing, doc," Kora replies, her voice low and rich as always. She's managed to consume half her Coke, and requests the meal she ordered to go. A pair of Chicago-style hot dogs and huge serving of fries and accordingly wrapped in butcher paper and quickly stuffed into a white paper back, the sharp call-response between the waitress and the short-order cook has a certain patois rhythm to it, patterned and engaging and essentially unrecognizeable.

"Erika," the tall Fenrir offers as she unfolds herself from the booth, accepting the business card with a flick of her fingers. After a moment's thought, she scrawls a number on a napkin, offering it back to Erika to tuck into a pocket.. "My number, if you need it. I told you, I didn't take any offence. Be safe, yeah?"

Kora waits long enough for the waitress to bring her her take-out bag, sliding Erika's card into her right hip pocket, then starts toward the door,, her reflection narrow, lean and tall and pale, walking through the windows like soe movie that is constantly resetting itself.

[Erika Irina Alexander] Erika takes the napkin and leaves, pushing onwards for safety on the streets of Chicago, ironic as that sounds. "Goodnight," she says to the both of them.

[Kora] The park system hugs the shore of Lake Michigan - a square here, beach access there - a fountain gleaming underneath the ugly orange street lights. Across the boulevard, couples stroll hand in hand, window shopping or bar hopping or looking for a chic little restaurant that doesn't have a 45 minute wait for a table for two, crowding into the foyers and the little bars to avoid the waiting in the heat. There is the threat of thunderstorms on the horizon, and it is closing in on dusk, but the lake still glimmers with reflected light of the setting sun, for all that the eastern horizon is little more than smoked shadow.

Adrian had a voice mail from Kora sometime during the week. She wanted to see him next time he was in Chicago. Here, she's waiting for him, seated on the retaining wall overlooking the lake. Behind her, the Lake View neighborhood rears up - all those find condos and shopping streets, the organic markets and the specialty bars and restaurants illuminated against the humid summer night. Her hair is pulled back sharply from her face, twisted at the nape of her neck. She's wearing a tank-top over a racer-backed sports bra, both white, old jeans and her heavy Doc Marten's, which thud against the retaining wall with every swing of her feet.

[Adrian] Being on the dig agrees with Adrian. His smile comes easier from being with people who understand what he does and share his interest, with people who converse freely on things about which he is passionate. He's picked up a bit of color in the sun, and not all of it is pink - instead of that baby-pale he tends to maintain in the city, he's downright ruddy. As ever, he's the height of fashion but this is more casual than most of what he wears - designer work boots in the place of fine shoes, rich and still somehow utilitarian pants that call out to be touched, a similar shirt. It's a lot of khaki and beige, but it's likely to be expected when one spends almost all of one's time in the sun, digging for goodness only knows what.

Somewhere on his way to meet Kora, he's stopped to pick up a late dinner - a chicken salad croissant cut in half to share, and two paper cups of coffee, the better to facilitate the conversation of two maybe-friends who could almost be normal people, fellow students at the same college, something.

She senses his breeding before she senses him - not overpowering, but subtle, and there.

"Hej," he says, his actual native accent coming through - no need to hide behind London down in southwest Illinois, where he's playing in the dirt. "Everything is well with you?" One of the coffees is handed over before he sits, and once he's settled, her half of the sandwich is handed over.

[Kora] Whether or not she's eaten, Kora accepts the half-sandwich and paper coffee with a sort of grace at odds with her youth - with a formality at odds with her rage. There are traditions she does not take for granted, and the Skald accepts Adrian's gesture of hospitality both gracefully and with a lingering formality that lends to her otherwise worn clothing and haphazard grooming an air of old things, long since passed.

"Adrian," she says, her mouth curling upward at the rightmost corner, the expression catching out the gleam in her dark blue eyes. At dusk, it is impossible to tell the color: just that they are dark, an abiding contrast to her pale skin and hair - and intent, fixed on him when he closes the distance between them.

Fixed on him: taking him in, head to toe. Noting both the change in demeanor, accent, and - even clothing, for all that she lacks the language for the last of it. She had three outfits to her name in the world - half a load of laundry - before someone bought her more, and delivered them to her across a table at the brotherhood, months ago.


She sets the coffee aside, just behind her right hip, and gestures toward the empty space on the wall beside her. It was built for people to sit here and have their lunch, overlooking the gentle slope toward the lower jogging path below. There is a certain hum of insects in the air, but she pays them no mind beyond a vague wave of her hand in front of her face. "I'm well, and you look well. Your work suits you, yeah?"

This is not precisely an answer to his question, but some of her lingering tension has passed, now. "Have a seat."

[Adrian] Some of her lingering tension has passed, but some remains; an eyebrow raises as he makes himself comfortable, and he does not yet sip his coffee or bite his sandwich. It's her moon, or near, and the tension could be left to that. Or . . . "Trent's alright? And Moira?"

That comes first. The rest - whether or not his work suits him, whether or not he looks well - can wait. There are more important things.

[Kora] "I wouldn't keep you in suspense over news like that, Adrian," Kora's voice is low and rich as it always is - never quite musical, so much as musing, thoughtful, considered. She speaks carefully and clearly, rarely hunting for words. There's a certain intimacy to the tone, a lack of distance shaded by a faint hint of reproach - at the thought that she might make him wait for such news. "Trent's healing. I talked him out of working bar security, too. And Moira's fine.

"This is - " here, she gives him a faint curl of her shoulders, the architecture of the joint visible under her skin as she moves them. She has some summer color too, though not deep, lingering brown. The contrast is apparent, though - since the tan lines are defined by the t-shirt she usually wears when hunting rather than the tank top she's wearing tonight, out of deference to the heat and sun. " - closer to official business, really. And I wanted to see how you are.

"It's been awhile." Her generous mouth remains curved into a considered smile, and sheen of light gleams animal across the surface of her eyes.

[Adrian] "I would hope not. Thank you," he says, and this is with a hint of smile - almost fond. As fond as he dares get of a Fenrir Garou, anyway. "It's good to know, both that my faith is well placed and that my friends are well."

And now? Now, he can answer the rest, before turning to that 'closer to official business' part. "I love my work. And I'm good at it," he says with a shrug - not feigning indifference as he's clearly pleased with himself and how things are going right now, but recognizing that there are more important things to be discussed, and not everyone is interested in history and its trappings as he is.

"So, yes, I'm well. And relieved - I fretted. And also curious as to what this official business might be, now that I know everyone is as well as I am, more or less. What's happened?"

[Kora] "Joe's gone." This is simply spoken, and tightly spoken. A handful of weeks ago she'd lashed out, called him a coward to anyone who would listen. Now, she says - Joe's gone - with this sort of quiet tension underneath.

"There are not many of us left." Fenrir, she means. Some are in the ground. Others have moved on to other fights. Her smile, here, turns faint and wintry before warming back into something wry and self-away. "There was a challenge, and I won. I'm Jarl."

[Adrian] [why no, we're not relieved to hear that Joe's gone at all, what can you be thinking? (Manip + Sub)]

[Adrian] There's a momentary something at mention of Joe being gone, but it's fleeting and then there's simple concern for the Garou who is closer to a friend than any other trueborn has been in quite some time. Joe was her packmate, after all, and while Adrian's never had that sort of intimate connection with someone else - will never - he does know about losing people who seem almost a part of yourself. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Fenrir are hard, Fenrir are tough. They're the first in and last out. But they, too, get hurt. Sometimes they, too, need a friend to lean on if just for a moment.

And then the last settles, and eyes go wide for a moment - there's a low whistle, perhaps just a hint of teasing, as a friend might do. Yes, Adrian dares.

"I'm proud of you. Congratulations."

[Kora] Adrian asks if she's alright; Kora gives him a look - one that is both direct and wry. She has consumed half of her half of the chicken salad croissant - big bites, chewing briefly and swallowing quickly, licking both her fingers and her lips for stray bits of mayo and chicken.

Then he offers his low whistle, and she repeats the look, though this one seems rather more personal, intimate. The light has changed in the time they've been sitting her, the shadows are deepening and darker, but the sun blazes in the west, cutting long, bright lines between the high-rise condos fronting the lakeshore and the little park.

"I'm not being modest when I say that this is more a measure of the tribe's weakness than my strength, Adrian. I'm a cliath Skald. We follow strength: rank, or at least the Modis of the tribe. But I stand as Jarl until someone defeats me in a challenge, and I will defend you and the rest of our kin as if you were each my own until then."

[Adrian] "I know what we follow," he says, just a hint sharp - he knows all to well. "And if you are the strongest of us left in the city - Cliath Skald or not - then you are the who. In this city, from what I've seen . . ."

He trails off, though, and remembers: she is Garou. He is brave, and he is strong, but he does not speak against any of hers - because the trueborn are hers, regardless of whatever else - without a damn good reason.

"Maybe there's a reason," he says by way of shifting from whatever he'd started to say. "Maybe it's time to try something new."

[Kora] Kora's dark eyes are fixed on Adrian. She doesn't waver, she doesn't look away. She doesn't indulge him by looking away, politely when he trails off, when the sharpness bleeds into remembrance of what she is: of who she is.

There is a certain stillness to her then. The sandwich is half-eaten in her right hand, largely forgotten now. After a moment of silence between them, she twists and sets it back beside the paper cup of coffee, carefully folding the paper wrap over it.

"I want you, Adrian, to understand what I expect of you. If you are threatened by the Wyrm or another Garou: I expect you to send them to me. If another Garou wishes to claim you, be she Fenrir or otherwise, send her to me. Your protection is my duty, as is your discpline, in the eyes of the Nation."

Her voice is soft, now. And, somehow, relentless.

"If another Garou seeks your aid and you wish to give it, you should. If you do not trust them or do not wish to aid them, if they insist on assistance from you that you cannot render, send them to me.

"I will not interfere in your personal life. You are a man of Fenris, and I will treat you as such. If you meet any other Fenrir, trueborn or kin, send them to me."

Her dark eyes linger on the kinsman's face the whole time. "These things do not change because I am Jarl rather than another. I know you understand this."

[Adrian] As his eyes - considerably paler - linger on her, though they don't meet hers; he is almost painfully proper sometimes, this kin, in things both human and not-so-much. "I do understand this, yes. And I will do my best to live up to your expectations, as I would any Jarl's." As he always has, frankly, whether or not he's presented himself as he should. Whether or not he was considered Fenrir in the time and place. To whom he reported in times of trouble may have been the leader of a different tribe, but Adrian has always behaved as a Fenrir kin.

"Still," he says and amidst all that seriousness - because he is, very much so, when talking about such things. "For all that you winning the challenge may say about the tribe as a whole, it also says things about you. And for that, and other reasons, I'm proud to know you."

He doesn't call her friend - in another universe, under other circumstances, maybe he would. This is the best he can offer, and in some ways? Maybe it's better.


[Kora] "C'mon," the creature says, quietly then, rising. She turns to retrieve the sandwich and coffee cup, gesturing back toward the lively strip of bars, restaurants, and coffee shops across the street. "I'll buy you a beer, yeah?"

Then, as they walk toward the bar, the Jarl of the Fenrir glances up at the young kinsman beside her, her dark eyes lively on his face. "Adrian," she says, as they are heading away into traffic. This is casually spoken, almost easy after the rest - her rich, low voice and the noise of the traffic buzzing around them. "I know you're gay. It doesn't bother me. All I ask is your continued discretion."

She says nothing more about it; he could almost have imagined it as they slip into traffic, toward one of the pubs along the strip for a beer or two.

[Adrian] "I think I owe you one, don't I?" Again, friendly ribbing despite that careful distance maintained . . . at some point, he's finished his half a sandwich and most of his coffee, so both wrapper and cup are thrown away so that he can light a cigarette as they walk. And then.

Then.
Then.
(Shit.)

He chokes on the smoke he's inhaling for the first time since his first cigarette, to the point of flushed face and wet eyes; it takes a moment to get past 'I know you're gay', to not wait for the hit, be it verbal or physical. There's both stress and the second moment of relief in one conversation; to know for sure that she knows is a weight lifted, but the reactions he's had to this revelation from other Fenrir have, as a general rule, not been good.

All I ask is your continued discretion. When he's recovered, he nods. "Of course." And then! He's so bold as to put an arm around her briefly, on their way to the bar of her choice. It's appreciation, that. And then it's drinks, traded back and forth.

[Spirits] Rule 8. No Multitasking!!!

[Spirits] Heat scorched the midday afternoon, humidity sweltered as the day wore on. It makes skin slick with sweat, dampening clothes and hair to plaster it to the skin. The air buzzes with invisible electricity as the sky quickly darkens with a low overcast of black clouds… thunder rumbling in the distance.

Wolves are called together, over a totem bonds and spirit-messengers in the shape of tiny, brilliantly shining hummingbirds. The messengers whisper in the ears of the Garou chosen for this task… Bogeyman are sought out for because of their close association with the turf. The summoner?

A small little blond Gnawer called Mama Ankle-Biter.

The streets of Chinatown are not filled with as many people as one would think. A heaviness carries in the quiet seclusion of one part of town, several blocks from the Market Square, closer to the Vice District and just a little beyond. Spirits in the umbra are jittery around, shying away quickly at the approach of any garou that arrives via the Penumbra.

She stands on the street in the realmside, working the patrols as the hours wane into dusk. An alley that once served as a battlefield lies before her; nothing remains of the destruction that was wrought except for an upturned dumpster. Next to the alley, around the corner of a storefront that long since been closed down, the windows and doors boarded up tightly, graffiti defaces the building in a mural of gang signs and territory markings, scratched into the brick and wood facing.

[Bone-Grinder] Cute! A Hummingbird! "Sure I'll follow you creepy little dude!" Was Simon's response to the freaky spirit thing sent to fetch him. He brought with him a bag and a bat... His usual trappings. The Ahroun arrived with a smile on his face. He came alone and on foot. A proud representative of Dark Sky and certainly it's most active member. He stood behind Mama, strong, young, and brave and all that crap.

"Ask and ye shall receive!"He says softly to Mama. He seemed ever eager to prove himself, not just his strength but his supposed resourcefulness as well. The young man has worked hard to make a name for himself but the problem with being a Shadow Lord is names mean nothing. When one ceases to pull his weight he becomes useless to the nation and when one is useless to the nation he needs to be cut loose. There is no time for relaxing, Mama and her creepy hummingbird friend needed him!

[Holds the Line] Cinatown. The Moonrunners were patrolling it now. Chiminage owed to the man who claims it. Claims part of it. The moonrunners make true to their chosen packname. The massive midnight hispo is running across the sky as if it had wings. Paws silent on the air as it looks around. IT had been called by its alpha and it searched out the familiar ground. Diving down, it landed in the alley and scented the air as spirits fled from the massive war-beast.

It stays in the umbra for now, reaching out through the shared totembond to his packmates. To victor that was flying close, to Mama in the alley.
~We are here.~

Simple affirmation.

[Hard Knocks] Hummingbird calls and Annie, young and athletic and prone to fits of delight, literally squees at how beautiful it is, and never mind that she's a bad ass Ahroun. She's also five feet tall, like, exactly.

Rory, we're meetin' Mama. C'mon, I'll drive unless you wanna walk.

And so, whether they walk realmside, run through the umbra, or drive in Annie's beat up (and very recognizable to those who know it) VW microbus, the two female Bogeymen arrive together, not long after Simon does. Perhaps oddly, Annie mostly ignores him - which is to say eyes land, briefly, and then skitter away to rest on anything else but the Shadow Lord who's over a foot taller than she.

"Hey, lady, been awhile," she tells Mama with a grin. "Missed ya! We're here for ya now, though."

[Tongue Twister] She had caught a ride with Annie when it was offered, summoned by the Hummingbird because this was their Territory. Delmar was patrolling on the other side of their holdings - or getting drunk at a titty bar, who knew - and Edwin was busy. Thus, the female half of the Bogeymen answer the call.

They choose to drive, because, well, the microbus is COOL, and she steps out with her packmate, taller, leaner, and overall quieter than her boisterous packmate. She offers Mama a shy little smile, and looks around at the others, in general greeting. She says nothing though, just waits to find out what they will face.

[Victor Oseragighte] Where Karl chose hispo, he had gone with the near-man form, glabro, preferring it for the moment due its superior manual dexterity.

This form stretches the brown dunagrees and black tanktop tight on his frame. Expecting trouble, he's drawn his bone blade, keeping it ready in hand as they alight, not yet pushing through until they know more about what they are facing. Karl had offered affirmation, and he sees no reason to repeat it.

[Sorrow] There was a hummingbird at the Sparrow-shrine, jeweled amongst the little plain brown birds. Now: there is a Fenrir woman in Chinatown. Sorrow walks, she takes the bus. She takes the El. Other passengers find a reason to get off a stop or two or three or four early, for reasons they cannot remember, and will not name. The tall blonde is oblivious, watching the streets pass by, one city neighborhood fold into another.

The Skald's pale hair is loosely plaited behind her neck, though fine curls escape from the heat, the humidity, twist around her features. She's here alone, hands in the pockets of her worn jeans, a black t-shirt clinging to her torso. The evening is hot and humid; she has a bottle of water in hand, and a small messenger bag against her left hip. Were it not for the rage, she could be a graduate student in something impractical, like literature, or art history.

Instead: she is an animal.

Now, she too is arriving in the alley, lifting the sweating bottle of water (Evian) in a vague salute towards Mama Ankle Biter by way of greeting.

[Spirits] The eyes of the small Gnawer close for a moment, she steps up close to the outside wall of the abandoned storefront. Hands raised, palms press to the brick. A furrow spreads over her features as she can feel something.

The wind moves through the alley, it howl the ears of those that arrive to join the Theurge, she can feel the presence of her pack in the Umbra. If they listen closely, Kora, Annie, and Rory could almost hear the softest of whispers tickling at their temples and sliding along their cheeks -the childish giggling of spirits.

The wind cools the alley, it grows stationary, continuing to dance around and around them. Karl and Victor will notice the ethereal wave of air-spirits that move around them, through them, tugging at their fur, or clothes. A collection consciousness forms amongst the garou present, bonded under the voice of the wind-spirits that bound them in a temporary link of communication.

"Couple of nights ago, the Moonrunners dealt with a gaggle of banes. One of them was more powerful than the others, it looked like a girl wearing a china doll mask... and handled a pack of yapping ankle biters." She snorts softly, as her voice fills their minds. "A voice called Mama here, heard it and went to investigate and woke the bane... something in the building awoke that psychomachiae."


[Tongue Twister] A wind moves through the alley, and Rory tips her head into it, letting it brush her curls from her face, briefly, before she ducks her head again. Brow furrows at the giggling of the spirits, but it is Mama that has her full attention - Mama, who speaks via a temporary link, that has the redhead blinking.

Neat.

She lifts her gaze to the building, listening still. She glances at her packmate, and then to the building. This is Mama's party, so she waits for her decision - even though she moves toward the building, the door, touching it experimentally to see if she feels what the small Gnawer does...

[Bone-Grinder] He tensed when Mama spoke, the words were ominous and a little threatening. He looks towards the building and then back towards the diminutive woman. His smile growing as he steps a little closer to her."Well then we go in there, find what woke it up and silence it right?"He asks her with a bit of a smile."Or is this gonna get a little bit more complicated?"

Simon wanted to know what they were up against, and dealing with. The Ahroun liked to know as much as possible before taking anyone to their deaths. He didn't like leading folks to their deaths, that was the second most important part of his job as he saw it. Killing the badguys being the only thing more important.

[Holds the Line] Pale ice blue eyes shift from the gauntlet where he was watching Mama’s form and the tohers through. Glancing to the building at their sides. A low growl in his throat.
~You think this thing that woke that… beast… is still in there?~

Karl had felt the whispering caress of the spirit that had been aw,akened. He had felt it close cold fingers around his mind, and it had nearly gotten him. Nearly taken his mind and body and turned it on his own pack. His lips pulled back in a silent snarl.

~if it has the power to awaken spirits, it must be tied to the umbra somehow. Shall I take Victor and search through the webs? ~


[Victor Oseragighte] Victor remembers, very well. The Wendigo was starting to hate dogs. They did not like him to begin with, but since arriving here, in the past week alone, he'd been bitten by dogs in three separate battles, fomori in two cases and banes in the last.

He remembers, too, the China Doll, the one he'd not known much about. He had never gotten around to asking about it, he realizes now, and perhaps that was a mistake. A big mistake.

He could only guess that now Mama had discovered something more, something requiring immediate attention. He did not have to say a word, even mentally, for her to know she had his backing. Karl's response suited him as well, and he slipped skyward, several feet above the pavement, keeping a watch on their surroundings.

[Spirits] "Couldn't find a way to get in through the umbra. The walls of the building are thick, had to squeeze through a hole in the wood blocking the front entry, didn't see a back way out..." the garou that stand in the alley can see her features pull into a mask of deep concern. Her hands remain against the brick facing, head tilting up to look at the wall again.

"Whatever's inside knows Mama's here... don't think it'll let me in again." She looks around at all of them, "Gone need ya to go in for me. Can do what can be done outside here but ain't much, still worn out from that last fight for the fucking box."

[Sorrow] Sorrow filters through the assembled Garou. She knows some of them by sight - from the moot - by reputation, the stories passed among the Guardians. She has fought with one or two. Now, the tall creature stands along, her arms crossed, her fine dark eyes direct on the theurge. It feels - strange, to be without a totem after so many months in a pack thought was closely woven, the weave tighter for the death of her Alpha, the shared experience as the fought the battle of his death over and over and over in the Battleground under every breathless minute was seared into their consciousness, both individual and collective.

Now she's alone. The whisper of air spirits is a strange echo of the strength of the totem bond. Kora turns her head at some sound that feels like a breeze as the air stills, the twist of subtle fingers across her pale cheek. It awakes a phantom pain inside her - just momentary, just this twinge she will not indulge. Simon asks the first half of the question on her mind; then Karl suggests searching through the webs. Her head cants, animal, at the sound from across the umbra.

" - rhya," the Skald appends, after the first two questions. There is a spare smile on her generous mouth. "I'm no theurge," a glance at those assembled. " - and neither are any of the rest of us. Can you tell which way the connection goes - from spirit to flesh, or flesh to spirit? If it is as powerful as you say, perhaps it would be best to act in concert - attack the outgrowth, then tear it out at the root."

[Spirits] To Kora - "Flesh to spirit and spirit to flesh. It was human once."

[Sorrow] The theurge's response is enough for Sorrow. The Skald nods once, then cants her head sidelong, neatly feral in this, listening for those in the umbra, anticipating the shifting of air currents as they come across. "Will this - " a pause, a faint gesture at the air around them, the invisible link joining the disparate Garou. " - link remain for us, inside?"

It is after all easier to act as a pack when you can think like one. Feel like one, even if this is an illusion born of air spirits.

[Hard Knocks] "I'm the smallest," Annie says easily, as if this is the only thing that matters - facts and figures are great, really, but she has no head for them. She wants to know what they're up against, how many. "So, I can slip in and see who's best placed where, ya know?"

Gum pops and the teeny-tiny Ahroun buzzes with energy, with playground laughter, with running and sports.

"An' I like Sorrow's thinkin'." By name. By reputation. If the Gnawer's met the Fenrir, it's been brief at best. "But ain't no good at cleansin' or whatever. Mostly just good at beatin' things."

[Spirits] Mama nods her head to Kora, looking at her now, her eyes flickering over to Annie briefly.

"It'll remain as ya go inside, Kora. Courtesy of the wind spirits."

She clucks her tongue at Annie, and then smiles at her, "Ain't recommended ya go in alone. When Mama did small hounds appeared to chase her out, tripped some kind of alarm or watch dog."

[Holds the Line] Mama’s words brings a huff from the great shaggy hispo, and it is with a shake of its head that he shifts, taking homid. Looking to victor, he waves him down. The gauntlet is thick in the scab, and together they have a better chance of piercing it quickly and easily. He grabs a small polished mirror and waits for the other before focusing his will with Victor to cross over.

[Crossing Gauntlet! -1 for mirror. Mutual with Victor!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Bone-Grinder] "The quickest way to overcome a threat is to rip out it's heart... Or cut off it's head. You chop and hack at the other bits and pieces and you only waste time which is a valuable asset in any conflict."He says with a nod of his head."Whatever this thing is we get to it... if we can't crawl our way to it then we will fucking claw our way to it and if claws won't work... I got some power tools in my car that will do the trick. One way or another we'll get to this thing. Honestly I think getting to it sounds like the hard part."He says with a bit of a smile.

[Victor Oseragighte] The soft murmur of the air spirits is familiar and comforting to Victor, and he listens while others debate. He'd started to rise higher still when Karl waves him back down and the Wendigo plummets, landing lightly, black eyes darting to the mirror acting as their beacon to the other side.
(( Roll with Karl ))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 3 (Failure at target 7)

[Tongue Twister] She tips her head, slightly, as Simon speaks, excited as a kid at Christmas. So she's heard the saying goes, having no such experience herself. She looks at Mama, and smiles shyly.

"Annie and I can to gogether. Go in pairs - one in, second in, move go tuard as others join. Then tight fogether."

[Spirits] A quick glance to those that are gathered, the Gnawer immediately rummages through the gunnysack that always hangs on a strap across her chest. She pulls out small wooden disks, painted with protection glyphs. She passes around one to each of them, "Soak talens." She murmurs absently.

There is a strain of tension lying in her features, she looks fatigued, but continues to press on. Once the talens are passed around, Ankle-Biter motions with a wave of her hand towards the end of the alley to the store front, she walks around the corner, pausing in front of the large sheets of graffiti plywood. There is a tear at the bottom, big enough to fit a small woman like her in homid.

If the others wanted to get through, they'll have to tear off the plywood and go through the door. A glance around the neighborhood shows no one on the street as the hour darkens. A lone car makes it way down the street, speeding too fast to notice the gathering. The sound of thunder rumbles in the distance, a streetlight flickers overhead. The heat continues to choke the air as the humidity thickens.

[Hard Knocks] "Was human, once," she answers Simon, sharp, though the words are directed at everyone; she has Views on this, it would seem. "Can whatever's got it be gotten out?" She's no Theurge either, doesn't know much about this - she's already stated her skill set. "I'll kill what ya point me at, but if there's somethin' worth savin', I'd like ta try an' save it. If it's all th' same ta th' rest of ya."

Then Rory speaks up, and Annie's shoulder bumps her . . . elbow, about, but it's a gesture of solidarity. "An' we can do that, yeah."

[Victor Oseragighte] Speaking up for the first time as he looks at that door, he turns his eyes skyward. "Wouldn't be too hard I bet for a couple of us to go in through a window higher up. Just a little climbing."

Those dark eyes are already scanning, asessing the building's structure, its integrity, with the experience that comes from growing up around construction workers.

[Spirits] "Nothing is worth saving."

A voice answers Annie, it doesn't come from the small Gnawer woman that has gone quiet as the others prepare and talk. The voice is cold, a breath chills at the back of her neck and the air around her suddenly becomes devoid of heat, like she were standing in a freezer butt naked.

[Spirits] At Victor's suggestion, Mama looks towards him, she angles her head back, eyes scaling up the length of the store front. It was two-story's tall, the windows were blacked out with paint and plywood, the some of the window panes missing completely or chipped.

"Not sure ya want to separate, Vic."

[Sorrow] Sorrow's gaze flickers over Annie, holds the small, scarred Ahroun in her field of vision for a long, slow minute. the others are crossing now; the gauntlet is thinning, growing sharp and refined. It is thick here, though, natively so, strung with webbing, inherent calcified.

"This threat sounds large enough, that I think Mama Ankle Biter-rhya means for us to go in as a pack rather than in twos and threes. We'll be stronger together, in any case." As she says this, a glance drifts between the pair of Ahrouns, then settles over the theurge, watching the Fostern's small features for a reaction - agreement, or disagreement. This is her prey, and her battle. And so, Sorrow defers, quietly restating herself. A brief glance back toward the building at Mama's back. " - there's just the one entrance, then? No humans to worry about?" A brief pause, her mouth thinning with thought, " - and we can expect the dogs you mentioned, but the dogs are secondary targets. Guards in the way of the thing inside, correct?"

Then, questions answered by the theurge's actions, Kora accepts the talen wordlessly. Half-closing her eyes, she invokes it, allows it to settle over her skin as she breaks it in two and allows the protection to settle over her skin.

Sorrow follows Mama around the corner to the front door, then, and reaches to begin tearing off the plywood. The door will work for her. Victor suggests climbing through a window, and Sorrow shakes her head.

" - a threat like this, you get isolated, you're likely to die. Unless someone here has the Battlesense gift, we go in together, fight together, and stay together. Once we're in, those of you who can slip in the shadows, do so - but stay close, I think. Does that work for everyone?" Kora glance at Karl as the other Fenrir arrives with his packmate. She is ready to tear down the plywood and go in the front door.

[-1 Gnosis, soak talen! -1 WP, resist pain!]

[Sorrow] Ancestors - to brawl!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 8) [WP]
to Spirits

[Holds the Line] ”We stay together. Last time, the spirit tried to twist the mind. If we stick together, we can make sure that if it happens, they can be stopped without to much bloodshed.”

Karl points to the storefront windows.
“The plywood. Easy enough to break through. I say we have given whatever is in there long enough to prepare for us. Let’s make sure it will regret remaining.”

Says as he takes the Talen mama offers, holding it to his chest. A burst of his spirit and it melts into his flesh.

[spend 1g to activate soak talen]

[Bone-Grinder] He takes one of the talens that is offered with a smile and a respectful bow of his head to Mama before turning his attention on the building.

He shakes his head at the mention of anyone going in alone."No one is separating from anyone. We;re not doing this in small groups... We're going in together, we are going to fight whatever this is side by side and if anyone has a problem with that then you can shut the fuck up because whatever is in there is fucking serious enough threat on its own and the last thing we need is people splitting up. So we find a way in... Or we make a way in."

"It's a building, that means it is made outta stuff and stuff can be broken. If we can't all go in then we don't go in till we find a way we can all go in."

[Bone-Grinder] [Activating soak talen!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 6 (Botch x 1 at target 7)

[Tongue Twister] She whips her head around as something that's not Mama answers Annie, and nudges her packmate in return. Then, the nearly Fostern Fianna, the shy little mule who rarely speaks to anyone when it is not this, not battle, not what she was born for...

She shakes her head. "Sot neparate."

She activates the soak talen they were given, and dusts off her hands, and goes to join Kora at the plywood. A nod. Shy and soft as her smile, and she grabs a piece of the plywood, ready to rip it from the door and find their way inside.

[Spirits] The talen blows up in Simon's face! Smoke fills his lungs as he inhales it through his nose, causing a sudden sting and a trickle of blood to run down his left nostril.

[Bone-Grinder] He sneezes and grumbles."Your talen attacked me!"He says in annoyance to Mama. A slight growl of annoyance as he wipes the blood off his face.

[Hard Knocks] [Woo, Gnawers! Resist Toxin, Stam + Survival, Specialty! Mind bendy doesn't mean there isn't poison or somethin']
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 5, 7, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6) [WP]

[Victor Oseragighte] He lowers his eyes, listens to the arguments to stay together, and has to admit they make far more sense. There is a moment where he glances to the talen before slapping it against his chest, drawing on his reserves of energy to invoke it. He then drops into a crouch, looking quite prepared to rush and crash through the plywood. He does not actually do so, though, not yet, waiting for approval with a silent, questioning look.

[Spirits] The Garou peel at the sheets of plywood that cover the reinforced metal frames of double doors that once held glass in them, they only need to take out one side in order for them to create a man-sized hole that anyone can fit through. Anything large than a homid has to squeeze through.

Ankle-Biter steps away to play lookout, scanning the streets as walks away from them, her head turning to glance back over a shoulder, looking someone worried that she can’t go with Victor and Karl.

Six Garou file into the front half of the store. Filthy drywall is covered in tattered wallpaper that peels at the corners from the low hung ceiling. Gritty yellow water stains cover the tile ceiling, they can see only one door that stands across from them, behind a series of counters, painted in green and red. A Chinese takeout calendar is pinned to its surface. A sign hangs on the bottom that says “employee’s only”.

The room is pretty wide, but not very deep. The shallow back wall with the second door that leads through it, provides the illusion of a small room, despite the building’s exterior. There had to be more beyond the small door. The shelves are empty; trash litters the floor around them. A few chairs are strewn behind the counters, which lead signs to the room’s recent use by whoever works here.

[Holds the Line] ~Scouting ahead. Will stay just one room. Be ready to charge on my signal.~

The Fenrir’s voice is carried to them via the air spirit’s that are riding them, providing for the silent communication, a weak mirror of a pack bond, but always something.

The Norse Fenrir drops forward, form melding into Lupus and he calls on Gaia’s gifts to shield his form from sight and then he creeps forward, scouting for the group.

[Blur!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 5, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 8) [WP]

[Holds the Line] [Ehm closed doors = bad, make it Glabro]

[Sorrow] Simon begins cursing; Sorrow gives him a look, dark eyed and direct. She's wordless, still now. There's someone else behind her eyes, sharing her skin, looking out into the changed world. The name rises silently in her mind, unbidden, the sense of otherness opening inside her is both familiar and charged. When the now-quiet Skald's blue eyes fall on Karl, they linger. When the other Fenrir is close enough, she takes a deep breath. His pure breed resonates with the ancestor spirit that has settled over her, lending her the memory of his skill, expanding her own beyond its native boundaries.

I know his line, the long-dead Fenrir says, this basso-sound that echoes in her mind, some language she knows only like this - from memories shared over age after age. Some part of her wonders if the others can hear him over the spirit link. Mostly, though, she's focused on the matters at hand, peeling away the plywood from the metal door frames, watching the street with sharp eyes as the others crawl through, until it is her turn.

Sorrow walks carefully through the trash-strewn room, lifting her head to take in the details - the water stains on the tiled ceiling, the remnants of the wallpaper peeling back from the drywall, the calendar and the counters. With a brief glance at the others, she circles the counters, alert now, watchful and ready - working her way through the room to the far wall with its small door. If necessary, she gestures the others out of immediate line of sight, and opens the small door for the Rotagar, staying behind the door as it opens.

[Hard Knocks] On the way through the door, once out of danger of sight, Annie's shifting to Crinos . . . which quite possibly doesn't make her the tallest of the group, amusingly. Victor in Glabro is quite likely still taller. Once there, there's claws sharpened on anything handy, honed to razor sharpness, with a few nice sssssssssshicks. Clothes shift with her, easy, and soak talens can wait.

Needless to say? She's small, and fast. She's heading in first, bright eyed and curious.

[Tongue Twister] She tips her head as Karl takes point and goes to scout, and she moves as well, pointing to direct the other's to spread out over the width of the room - still together, but with more maneuvering room in case Karl sends something scurrying back at them.

She, herself, moves to stick close to Karl, hovering at the open door to listen for his signal, flanking the door that Kora opens with a nod.

[Holds the Line] [Sta + PU, Resilience spec]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 7, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Bone-Grinder] He enters with the others. His attention shifting around the room and back to the others. He was quick to get inside and begin looking around. He gave a glance to the others at the door before looking into the back Room with a smile."I'm gonna check this room out... Someone get my back."He says with a nod of his head.

[Bone-Grinder] [Sta+PU]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Hard Knocks] [Stam + PU + spec (resilient)]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2

[Tongue Twister] Simon says he's going to check the room out, and Rory snarls at him.

"Stay."

[PU+sta]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Victor Oseragighte] When they they decide simply to peel the plywood away, he relaxes and watches them. Victor hangs back a moment to place a hand on Mama's shoulder, the message clear to his Alpha; they'll be coming back. Don't worry for them.

With that he is squeezing through, a tight squeeze for a man with his broad frame, especially in Glabro. He straightens and looks about, listening as they arrange the marching orders while he hangs back, ready to act, watching their backs.

(( Stamina + PU ))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Sorrow] Primal-urge + stamina in homid!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Holds the Line] [Stealth! Dex + stealth]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Spirits] Upon entering the second door, they are thrust into complete darkness and bone-chilling cold. The room is devoid of heat, the cold sucks at their bodies, pulls the air from their lungs in thick white puffs as it condensates in front of their faces. The streetlight from outside floods through the opening they had created, lighting up the main room they stood in and casts a halo of shadows at their backs.

The wind at their ears circulates the coldness around them, making it worse. There is a heavy stench that assaults their noses the moment they all file through. It reeks of sweat and blood, decaying flesh and the stale, hot slick smell of rotting garbage. It is strong enough that it makes them gag and their eyes water. The smell pulls at their wolf senses, raising their hackles with an overwhelming emotion of Fear, Anger, Violence, Rage.

It snarls at them, but does nothing more than that.

[Holds the Line] [per + alert -2 lupus]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 5 (Failure at target 5)

[Hard Knocks] [Per + Alert!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 6, 8 (Failure at target 7)

[Tongue Twister] [per+alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 6, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Sorrow] Per + alertness
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 7, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7) Re-rolls: 3

[Victor Oseragighte]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Spirits] The stench is too overpowering for Annie and Karl, worse for the Rotagar as his nose is more sensitive to the finer details of such things.

For the Others, their eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, allowing them to vaguely make out shapes along the wall, outlines of metal shelves. The structure of a staircase that sits on the far right side of the room, and an wall at the back that juts out from the stairs by three feet, running parallel with it.

Karl steps into the room, heavy paws stick to the floor, small fragments of bone prick at the pads of his feet as bones crunch under his weight when he walks.

[Holds the Line] His lips draw back in a silent snarl at he bone that covers the floor. Whatever was hidden in here was an old tenant. It made him want to howl. But he kept his quiet. It takes him longer to find the staircase, but when he does, he moves towards it, whispering over the air spirit link for the others to follow into the first room.

[Sorrow] Metal shelves against the far wall, Sorrow's mind-voice is deeper and less melodious than her human tones. It is short, really, direct. And a staircase, with a wall beside it. See anything else?

She's flanking the door; as she stands there, her body bulks from human into her near-man skin, making her rougher, more wild. The clothing expands to fit her cro-magnon frame, the sloped brow and heavy jaw, the thickened keratin of her fingernails becoming short, rough near-claws.

Karl whispers to them over the loose bond of the air-spirits, and Sorrow follows, holding the door carefully behind her to allow the others to come in, pushing it all the way open so that some light from outside will spill into the dark interior.

[Tongue Twister] She looks. She looks the same as all of them do, and trusts Sorrow to tell those who don't what they see. At the question, she shakes her head - she sees nothing else. She still does not shift. Not yet.

She slips through the door, letting Sorrow hold it as she takes flank, and directs the others to spread out once more. Karl still has point... and once everyone is through, Rory follows him toward the stair case, where she'll wait for word once more, walking as quietly as she can.

[Victor Oseragighte] Victor winds up in the rear with the metis, silent, observing, studying their surroundings, trusting nothing that they see. The hair on his skin stands on edge with the sensations that bombard them, but he maintains his focus, though his knuckles grow pale due to the tighteness of his grip on the haft of the simple bone blade he holds up before him.

[Spirits] “Precious…?”

The bone-chilling voice that had spoken to Annie outside wafts from the top of the stairwell. A spark ignites; a white lambent flame snaps into existence. It grows and trembles, a wisp of glowing white cloth swirling in the air to take the shape of a small girl with black, inky hair spilling down the front of her tattered dress. They can see the sharp, beautifully contoured points of a bone-white wolf mask - much like those that Kabuki dancer's wear - peering at them with red lines running along the muzzle.

The eyes are black soulless sockets.

The air only seems to grow colder around the floating figure... the voice is clipped with a broken English, accentuated with Asian flavor.

[Hard Knocks] Annie recoils from the smell, but hears what Sorrow has to say, and then they're all going through - she stays near Rory, but watches and listens all around.

[Holds the Line] Karls voice snaps over the shared bond.
~It’s one of those spirits! Do not listen to its whispers! Do not let it touch you! Ahrouns, lure it forward, I will fall on its back! Hard and Fast!~

The Stealthy shadow that is Karl waits for the spirit to pass, readying himself to strike when its attention is stolen by the others.

[Bone-Grinder] The other Ahrouns seemed on the matter. He wasn't about to throw himself into the fray when there were others oh so eager to handle just that. So Simon kept his distance though he did shift forms to something a little more comfortable.

[Glabro]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 9 (Failure at target 7)

[Bone-Grinder] [Screw this trying again]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10 (Failure at target 8)

[Tongue Twister] Ahrouns, lure it.

It's a command, and Rory is born and bred to obey them instantly. She would have done it anyway. A leader takes point. A full moon takes point. Rory? Takes point.

She steps forward, and is instantly in hispo - heavy paws hitting the ground as she growls low and dangerous, a clear threat to the approaching Masked Spirit... A clear dare of the come and get me persuasion.... drawing it down the stairs and into the room proper so that Karl can flank it...

[-1R, hispo!]

[Victor Oseragighte] "Come down. I can take you to precious." He did not see a need to lure when he suspected that the spirit's own twisted nature could be used against it. 'Precious' he gathered to be the other spirit, the one they'd slain. His knife hand goes down to hold it close to his side and his free hand goes up, beckoning to the spirit, seeking to draw it into position for them to strike best.

[Hard Knocks] Ahrouns, lure it, says the rotagar and though Annie's not bred to obey orders unless they're from her alpha, it seems like a fine thing to do. Don't listen. Don't let them touch. Eager and already in Crinos, Annie bounces forward with her pack-sister. She's not as clear of a threat, no, so small even in war form. But she has claws, and she has teeth. And she and Tongue Twister have --

Wishbone?

[Spirits] The order runs across the temporary pack link from Karl. Ahrouns, lure it. The Rotagar has a very good idea to what they are dealing with. Victor know what it is... the bodies of the garou start to twist into their fighting forms to lure the white wolf kabuki masked spirit towards them.

A whisper runs across Sorrow's thoughts, a ghostly voice as she is one of the few who can speak to Spirits without the aid of a gift - Shiranui... it whispers... help us... Kuroinu...

Simon's body trembles with rage, he is having difficulty shifting, he can't seem to gain a hold of his beast. He stands at the back of the room, growing angrier by the second, feeling his rage pulsate through him. His inner wolf wants to burst through him and tear at his own skin. Chains rattle at Simon's feet, the cold shadows pull across the light from the second, open door that beats at the Shadow Lord's back.

A second flame sparks to life, a reddish-purple glow that begins to take the shape of a second masked figure. It is the opposite of the white spirit. The same beautifully contoured kabuki mask hugs its face, black on red lines...

[Sorrow] Sorrow drops abruptly from Glabro to Hispo, fueled by rage. The bones are sharper against her paws than they were against the boots on her feet, and the air seems thicker with the scent of the creature's - the near/once/no longer human creature's - victims, old and new, scattered over the floorboards.

The others speak, seeking to lure it out. The Skald - there is some irony in this - remains quiet when the rest of the pack whisper. She circles in the room, her tail low with caution, spreading out so that she can flank the spirit when battle comes.

The voices that whisper across her mind are another layer. There is the old one inside her, a heavy presence, alert at the possibility of battle, contemptuous of the place she fights, of the city for which she fights. Sorrow pulls them apart, offers them back to the pack across the bond of the air spirits.

They say, Shiranui, help us. Kuroinu.

When the second spirit appears, opposite, Sorrow swallows a low growl - not alarm, more challenge - her hackles are standing on end, now, her stance wide, alert, ready.

[Sorrow] [-1 rage! FYI.]

[Holds the Line] [Ambush roll! Dex + stealth]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Bone-Grinder] He sighs to himself. You see the thing about being Simon means no matter how much others bitch and groan about you being around and stealing all their glory it really doesn't matter. Cause the Wyrm knows where you are, and the wyrm is coming for you Simon. It fuckin' hates you and why? Because it fuckin' fears you and what you are capable of. It knows the threat and danger you will one day pose and hopes to stop you before you can achieve that potential."Nice fuckin' eyes scout..."The words were directed in annoyance at the Rotagar who had apparently missed the mask that was now floating behind the Full Moon who had been covering the other Garou's asses. With a roll of his eyes he turns to face his enemy, and as immediately as he can he Shifts to a form better suited for war.

[-1 Rage shifting to Hispo!]

[Spirits] [Shiranui: to not be ambushed]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 8, 10, 10 (Failure at target 10)

[Victor Oseragighte] ~If there are more than two, this could get bad for us. We need to deal with these now.~

One of them was bad enough. Two was a very bad thing, though, and he swelled into Crinos, muscles thickening, limbs and face lenghtening, not wishing to be caught flat.

((Sta + PU))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Holds the Line] [Ambush Attack on Shiranui. 1r Reflex shift hispo! +5 dice ambush -2 dif attacking back target 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 16 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 9 at target 3)

[Holds the Line] [Dam +8]
Dice Rolled:[ 16 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Spirits] Shiranui soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 6, 6, 6, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Bone-Grinder] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Victor Oseragighte] 19
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Tongue Twister] [+8!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[Hard Knocks] [+7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3

[Spirits] Shiranui 7+
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10

[Holds the Line] Holds the Line strikes from the shadow, fangs flashing as he shimmers into the dire wolf form, jaws snapping but finding little real resistance, tearing at the layers of clothing that swirl around the spirit. The frustration fuels his rage, making his eyes burn.

[Init 11 + 10]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[Sorrow] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[Spirits] Kuroinu 8+
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[Spirits] 29 Karl
24 Vic
17 Kuroinu
16 Rory
14 Simon
11 Kora
10 Shiranui

Annie declare first...
10 Annie

[Spirits] Shiranui should be 17 and Kuroinu at 10

[Hard Knocks] [Poor, poor Annie.

1a) claw mask in front of her
1b) ditto

[Spirits] Kuroinu:
Corruption on Simon: Kill the weakest, assume dominance, tend not to the disfigured, the wounded... Kill the scarred one... kill Annie.

[Sorrow] 1a. BITE. 1b. BITe. 1c. BITE. Rage 1. BITE. Beginning on Shiroinu, flanking if possible (see previous post!) switching to K if S goes down.

[Bone-Grinder] 1a. Bite Stupid Mask
1b. Bite Stupid Mask
1R: Don't kill Annie, Bite Mask!

[Tongue Twister] 2 rage, split first action
1a: bite
1b: bite
1R: bite
2R: bite - all on S unless she goes down, then to K. (or Simon if he attacks Annie. Heh.)

[Spirits] Kuroinu: Corruption on Kora: Kill the strongest... he mocks you, does not respect you... will not follow your leads...You are weak to his eyes...he will steal the Jarlship... kill Karl

[Spirits] err. Shiranui: Corruption on Kora: Kill the strongest... he mocks you, does not respect you... will not follow your leads...You are weak to his eyes...he will steal the Jarlship... kill Karl

[Victor Oseragighte] The blade goes to his off hand as he rushes the white masked spirit, lips curling back from his fangs, ready to strike hard before the spirits can use their twisted magics.

1a Bite white
1b Claw white
1c Bite white
Rage 1 Bite white
Rage 2 Claw white -- change to black if white has fallen

[Holds the Line] [Declare
1 WP reflexive- Resist Pain

1a. Hush Kuroinu
1b. Hush Shiranui

Rage 1. Bite S
Rage 2. Bite S

[Holds the Line] [Hush Kuroinu target 8 -2 split]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 8) [WP


[Holds the Line] [hush Shiranui target 7 -3 split]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Victor Oseragighte] He leaps high at first, trying to sink jaws into a shoulder.

Bitye!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 5, 5 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Victor Oseragighte] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Spirits] Shuranui soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Victor Oseragighte] His right hand lances into the spirit's side then to tear...

Claw!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Victor Oseragighte] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 6, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Spirits] Shuranui soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 6, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Victor Oseragighte] He feels more resistance this time, but uses the leverage to twist his head and hopefully tear away more of the spirit's essence.

Bite!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 4 (Failure at target 5) [WP]

[Spirits] Shuranui change of actions, cannot whisper, lashing out at Victor!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Spirits] Damage
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Victor Oseragighte] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Tongue Twister] split 1: Dex + Brawl + Hispo = 3+4+2 = 9 -2 for split = 7 diff 5 - reroll 10s
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 4, 5, 9 (Failure at target 5)

[Tongue Twister] Kahseeno? STOP BEING A WHORE.
split 2: Dex + Brawl + Hispo = 3+4+2 = 9 -3 for split = 6 diff 5 - reroll 10s
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Tongue Twister] That's right - i said STOP BEING A WHORE!
Str + Hispo + Bite + (suxx-1) = 4+3+2 = 9 + 4
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Spirits] Shuranui soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Bone-Grinder] [Bite Black Mask! Dex+Totem+Brawl+Hispo = 10 -2 = 8 Dice Diff 5]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 5, 6, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Bone-Grinder] [Str+Totem+Hispo+2 = 9]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Spirits] Kuroinu soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Bone-Grinder] [Bite 2 Same -1]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Bone-Grinder] [Same+4 = 13]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Spirits] Kuroinu soak
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Sorrow] Dex + Hispo + Brawl + Ancestors Sux = 12 1a. -3
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 6, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Spirits] Shuranui soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Sorrow] 1b. -4
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Spirits] Shuranui soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Sorrow] 1c. -5
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 5) [WP] Re-rolls: 1

[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Spirits] Shuranui soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Spirits] Kuroinu: cannot whisper, physical attack on Simon, chain whips
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Spirits] Damage
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 5, 5, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Bone-Grinder] [Soak that shit!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Hard Knocks] Claw 1! Dex 3 + 1 (Crinos) + Brawl 3
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Hard Knocks] Claw 1, Dex 3 + 1 (Crinos) + Brawl 3, -2 (Split)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Hard Knocks] Damage Str 3 + 2 + 1 sux +1 Razor Claws
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 6, 6, 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Spirits] Kuroinu soak
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[Hard Knocks] Claw 1, Dex 3 + 1 (Crinos) + Brawl 3, -3 (Split)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]

[Hard Knocks] Damage Str 3 + 2 + 1 sux +1 Razor Claws
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Spirits] Kuroinu soak
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Holds the Line] [Rage 1. Bite S! Still behind! target -2]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 9 at target 3) Re-rolls: 1

[Holds the Line] [Dam + 8 Split into 2x8 dice]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 6, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Holds the Line] [Dam + 8 Split into 2x8 dice]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 4, 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Spirits] Shuranui soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Victor Oseragighte] Karl leaps into the fray and he is happy to split the white mask with his packmate, trying to sink his teeth in once more.

Bite!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 7 at target 5)

[Victor Oseragighte] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 4, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Spirits] Shuranui soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 5, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Tongue Twister] Dex + Brawl + Hispo = 3+4+2= 9 diff 5 - reroll 10s
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 5, 5, 5, 7, 7 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Tongue Twister] Kahseeno - I swear to gaia, if you are a dick this time.... JUST DO IT.
Str + Hispo + Bite + (suxx-1) = 4+3+2 = 9 + 2
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Spirits] Shuranui soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Spirits] Shuranui is dead. x_x

[Bone-Grinder] [Woot Bite that shit! Dex+Totem+Hispo+Brawl Diff 5]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[Bone-Grinder] [Str+Hispo+Totem+2+4 = 12]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Spirits] Kuroinu soak
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Sorrow] The white ghost falls under the metis' jaw. Sorrow's mouth is full of the taste, cold and bitter, remnant blood - the crunch of bones underneath her paws. At once, she wheels in a great, wide arc around toward the remaining creature, snarling challenge now - fierce and wordless.
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 6, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Spirits] Kuroinu soak
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Holds the Line] [Karl Rage 2. Bite K]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Holds the Line] [Dam +2]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Spirits] Kuroinu soak
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Spirits] Kuroinu is dead.

[Victor Oseragighte] He felt something lash into his back and spun, claws lashing out at Kuroinu, only to find the black-masked spirit fallen already to his packmate.

[Spirits] Shuranui the unknown fire – she of the white wolf mask, innocent and beautiful once – her sister, Kuroinu the dark dog – she of the black mask, vicious and rageful – vengeance incarnate; they come together, the white kabuki flowing down the stairs as the ahrouns lure it towards them. She floats across unsuspecting of the ambush attack brought on by the sneaky Rotagar as his teeth tear into the ivory fabric of her gown… He manages with a gift to hush the spirits, to keep their sickly sweet voices from whispers dark longings into the ears of the garou they want to touch.

The Wendigo is strong and fierce in his attacks against the white ghost, tearing into as the others follow suit. Teeth grinding and twisting into the white folds as she manages to lash out at Victor and claw him across the muzzle. The wolves will bring her down, she will cascade into a shimmer of white cloth and the white Kabuki mask will land in the center of a pile of salt. A crack running down the center of its forehead.

The black spirit rises up, chains thrashing towards the Shadow Lord that it cannot control, it cannot whisper to. Anger broils over in it, it feeds on Simon’s rage and sent it back to him, pushing the ahroun’s anger far above his own… black cloth shreds under the teeth of wolves that bring her down… her mask also cracking in the forehead as she melts into a pile of ash.

[Spirits] The room is thick with sweat, it grows heavy with the stench that overpowers their noses with its filth and decay. They stand victorious, panting as the cold air continues to pull their breath from their lungs.

[Victor Oseragighte] The second bane down, he looks back to the stairs, ignoring his own wound for now, a fairly minor injury anyhow. "We need to be certain those were the last." His gaze on the stairs, it's clear what he is thinking, that there may yet be more trouble above them.

[Tongue Twister] She whirls to attack the black one, the taste of the white one still in her teeth, in her throat, in her belly. It falls under the efforts of the others, and she remains there, paws spread wide, waiting... breathing.

Then, she takes a breath, and shifts back to her monkey skin, and makes a visual check on them all - though it is Annie, that her gaze lingers on. Then, a shy little smile shared with her packmate. Triumphant. Edwin will be pleased.

[Sorrow] The moments after battle are often anticlimatic. The air is full of sweat and the sweet afterburn of rage. The ancestor spirit inside her unfolds, awakening in the moments of battle, remembering the feel of a foe folding beneath his thrashing teeth, the sizzle of hot blood spattering across new fallen snow.

The ghosts fall, the masks cracked, the gowns and bodies underneath crumbling into piles of ash. Sorrow shakes her fur, pacing and prowling, stiff through the spine as she looks up the stairs, waiting for something else to come down, waiting for more.

When it is clear that there is no more threat from above, Sorrow melts from hispo into glabro and crouches near the center of teh frigid room, passing the ashes over her fingertips.

[Spirits] Mama Ankle-Biter's voice flickers across their thoughts, "Is everything alright? Felt a shudder... spirits outside the building are restless."

[Bone-Grinder] Soon enough he is growling and nodding in agreement with Victor the place had to be searched from top to bottom. It had to be searched and it had to be cleansed. He wanted to be certain what kept Mama out was these things and not something of greater danger to them.

[Hard Knocks] Rory gets her smile returned in spades, and Annie slowly shrinks back down to homid - so small to have done such damage, even in Crinos. She's fine, the feisty little playground scrapper. "We should help look, see if there's anything else," Annie says, though as soon as she's assured herself that Rory's okay, before she does anything else, she checks on Simon. Assuming he, too, is alright, she helps with what needs to be done.

[And CC goes to bed. G'night and thanks for the scene!]

[Sorrow] There is a supple acknowledgment from Sorrow. Shuranui and Kuroinu are broken under our claws. The bodies dissolves, the masks are left. Should we bring them to you?

[Holds the Line] IT is over as quickly as it begins. The Garou work as a team.

Holds the Line has fought these spirits before. He knows the lure of their whispers and he was not about to let them whisper to the others. After the first fruitless attack, he snarled at the spirits, his gift settling over them, quieting their whispers. It was only after that the Fenrir struck out, tearing with fangs at the spirits. One goes down under savage assault, and they move on to the next. In the space of a few breaths, both spirits are crumbled remains.

Karl turns to look at the others, still wearing the massive Hispo form. His voice over the shared bond low, steady and cold.
~You fight like Fenrir.~

Probably the greatest compliment the Rotagar can offer the others. To Kora, it is just affirmation. She is his Jarl, she is Fenrir. He expects nothing less from her.
~Beware the whispers.~

Then Karl is stealthing to the stairs, looking up, scenting the foul, cold air.