Daniel Broken Hammer

[Nate Cross] Nate just stand and waits for the response, so newly back in town is he that he hasn't even had the chance to present himself before the Sept or to make his offering. He was hoping to avoid causing an inter-tribal dispute till at least his second week in town.

"Well what should I call you then rhya. I didn't get any other name from either you or Lee."

"Also if you don't mind...and I'm not intruding. I've actually a couple of questions that I hope you can answer for me."

[Hatchet] The Fianna leans back on his bed, resting shoulderblades to the wall. His feet are still flat on the ground; it's a narrow bed. Everything about him is oddly striking; there's an alien angularity to his jawline that's masked by his beard, softened by it even as it ages him past his years. He is young, by mortal standards. He is not even twenty-five. He may not see twenty-five. Few enough of them will.

"Buried Hatchet," he begins, "Fostern Philodox of the Fianna, Alpha of the Sentinels under Bear."

Rhya Nate picked up just by watching him. Fianna he knew because of Taggart's obvious attachment to Lee. But Ahroun, he might have guessed. Galliard, maybe, even. But Half-Moon. Philodox. Those who are to bring balance and leadership, guidance, and --

-- okay, with all the lecturing, maybe Nate won't be so surprised at that.

"Or you can keep calling me rhya. That works, too." A beat. "What else is on your mind?"

[Daniel Ingenssen] (barging in! don't wait on me, i'm multitasking.)

[Hatchet] [Also: 30 min warning! Time to 5-min panic post, folks! :D ]

[Nate Cross] As for surprise Nate showed some...although Buried Hatched had recited one of the tenets of the litany it wasn't much to go on . So when the Fianna announces his full title, one of Nate's eyebrows raises quizzically.. as if he was going ~really?~

"Philodox? interesting... I wouldn't have guessed or if I had it looks like I would've been wrong."

"Guess rhya will work for now... well until I get to know you better. As for my questions... I was hoping you'd be able to guide me toward the Sept.. so I can make my offering and all that. As for my second it's kinda related, while I was born and raised in Chicago.. after my first change my rite of passage was done elsewhere. So I find myself in this city a lone wolf, I was wondering if you knew anyone I could speak too about prospective packs ?"

[Daniel Ingenssen] Permission to enter Hatchet's room, the one part of this building -- and perhaps of the world -- that can be rightly considered Hatchet's domain and Hatchet's alone, is sought wordlessly across the totemlink.

When Daniel appears, it's with a faint by noticeable popping in each of their ears as air rushes rapidly outward from the space that the Forseti simply materializes in. Daniel's spirit is grown strong from his solitude in the northern wilderness; strong as that of some Theurges. Stronger. His rage is strong too: like that of an Ahroun. He's quiet, lightfooted, quick and perceptive as a Ragabash.

But he's a Half-Moon in the end, like Hatchet. The Sentinels are anything but typical.

The Forseti's heritage is entirely in his face. There isn't a shred of pure breeding in him. His ancestors were good Garou, decent, dutiful Garou, but not heroes. He takes up a spot at the windowsill, folding his arms across his chest, and watches.

[Hatchet] Nate's mild surprise at his auspice doesn't get Hatchet's ire going. His eyes flicker with brief irritation, but he doesn't rise up and clock the Gnawer over the head. He just remains where he is, leaning back on his bed. He lifts a finger and points at one of his four walls. He's pointing, ultimately, in the direction of the lake. The docks.

"That-a-way. And if you can't find a caern that isn't under the Rite of the Shrouded Glen, you're hopeless."

He says it dismissively, and without rancor. And then he looks thoughtful. "Well... as far as I know there are no packs in the city that will turn down an acceptable recruit that would fit in their numbers. I know that the Unbroken -- they're led by Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Fostern Lord Ahroun, and their totem is a Shadow Lord storm god of some kind -- already have one Galliard and may be courting another. I know that La Familia --"

There's a pause. A flick of his eyes in the direction of his doors. Permission is being granted. Wordlessly, a nudge of two muzzles near one another, a sense of welcome. He goes right back into speaking.

"-- who follow Black Unicorn, has no Galliard. At least, not so far as I know."

His packmate appears silently inside the room, and Hatchet doesn't so much as bat an eyelash. "Word on the Street, this is my packmate, Broken Hammer, a Cliath Forseti. Daniel, this is Nate, Gnawer Galliard of your rank."

The Fianna continues. "There're the Eagles, one of the oldest packs around -- Gaia only knows who is in charge right now, their Alpha's a Modi off on his Athro challenge and could probably eat you for an afternoon snack. Not sure if you missed the part tonight where Rory Tongue-Twister told us that her Alpha just died, they follow Alley Cat... there's a Lord pack under Fox that seems to have dwindled to a single Garou, a pack under Wireless Bat that almost no one ever hears from, and I think there's some Garou running together under Wasp."

A beat. "Then there's us. Daniel here, myself, Echo -- you may have missed her disagreement with her lovely kinsman in the common room, but she's a Fostern Walker Ragabash -- and Joey, my Rotagar."

There's an absence there. A void somewhere in those words. He doesn't explain it. "Ultimately, Nate, you just have to make the rounds. See where you fit. See who will take you and decide for yourself if it's where you want to be, who you want to be with."

[Daniel Ingenssen] Daniel's eyes are not clear and pale, though that's what one might expect of a man like him. Grey or blue would fit in those deep eye orbits, under that slanting, distinctively nordic brow. Those are the colors and the clarities that would fit with his face, his tribe, the marrow of his bones, but his eyes are in fact dark. They're nearly black, and very, very perceptive. He looks at Nate carefully and consideringly.

He says only, "Word on the Street-yuf." It's at once greeting and acknowledgment.

[Nate Cross] "Well thanks for the directions... I'll head down that way tomorrow." his doesn't react to the potential insult, inwardly he just takes it as something to prove

"As for making the rounds, normally my life is spent on the pavement practicing my art. They only go in two directions forwards and back... and if you go forward there is always the thing that is right in front of you. So..." he shrugs again.. "I was wondering maybe if I could run with your pack at least for awhile. See if it's the place for me. If not .. then no harm and nothing lost and I can move on. "

"If you'd rather I scout around first , then I can do that also. Just don't want to show you any dis-honor by not asking you first."

He then turns to the new presence in the room "Evening Daniel" a small nod of greeting , not able to resist being drawn into those black wells that are his eyes. Moments later pulling his gaze away.

[Hatchet] [This is what I'm about to post, halfway through. Because halfway through is when he addresses Daniel over totemphone:]

Most of what Nate says about pavement and art, like his earlier comment about painting, goes unremarked upon. Hatchet crosses his arms over his chest, his brows pulling together in nothing short of bewilderment.

"Up until about 3 minutes ago you didn't know my name. You're in here so I could yell at you for encroaching on my territory. And now you want to run with my pack." A beat, a shake of his head.

[INSERT TOTEMPHONE HEER]
What do you think?
to Daniel Ingenssen

[Daniel Ingenssen] I think he's young. Inexperienced. Probably an idealist. But a good man, probably. A good wolf. More honorable than I would expect from one of Rat's. He won't disgrace us willingly. He will need guidance.

I like him, Alpha. I think we should let him run with us for a while. But he should know that to follow Bear is to live a humble life. If his honor is important to him, he may not find that here.
to Hatchet

[Hatchet] Inexperienced and in need of guidance? What is he, tailor-made for us?
to Daniel Ingenssen

[Daniel Ingenssen] There's a general sense of confusion. Daniel doesn't get the joke.
to Hatchet

[Hatchet] Most of what Nate says about pavement and art, like his earlier comment about painting, goes unremarked upon. Hatchet crosses his arms over his chest, his brows pulling together in nothing short of bewilderment.

"Up until about 3 minutes ago you didn't know my name. You're in here so I could yell at you for encroaching on my territory. And now you want to run with my pack." A beat, a shake of his head.

There's a few seconds of silence. It's clear he's not done speaking, as he stares at Nate in consideration. Then he exhales a breath, reaching up to scratch idly at his cheek. His hand drops back to his lap. "I'll tell you what I told Daniel when he first showed up: I'm a charach, Echo at least acts as unstable as a madwoman, Joey's showed an utter lack of wisdom time and time again, and Daniel here is named as he is because of a gross and lethal error in judgement."

It's all blunt. Flat. Honest. "We follow Bear. We work harder for every scrap of Honor the Nation gives us. But if you think you can handle that, then you're welcome to run with us for the time being. We will treat you as a packmate. You will act like one. And if it works out, then in due time, we'll take you before the Ritesmistress and we'll summon Bear to accept you."

A beat. "How's that sound?"

[Nate Cross] "Well yeah that's all true ryha..and you could yell at me for that such is your rite. I know my lot in life and it wouldn't surprise me. As for running with your pack, sure...don't we all want to prove our worth in some way or another and for our own reasons ?. Sure I didn't know your name.. but now I do .. everything has to start from somewhere." he shrugs

As Hatcher reels off the crimes and misdemeanors of the pack , Nate just stands there, listening, learning "Well I'm the unwanted bastard child of who knows who. Left on the doorsteps of a orphanage with not even a name. We all have our crosses to bear."

"Well Bear sounds like my sort of totem, us Gnawer's do that every single day..... As for the conditions well I can't ask for anything more can I and just the chance to run with you for awhile is all I wanted."

He moves toward Hatchet and extends his hand and forearm to him "Thankyou. You won't be disappointed."

[Daniel Ingenssen] Daniel speaks up again, and only to say: "I look forward to running with you, Word on the Street-yuf."

In his entire time here, he's said two sentences -- aloud. The lean Forseti seems content with that.

[Nate Cross] He turns to Daniel, almost surprised the guy was still there "Likewise... Daniel? or is there another name you prefer?"

[Hatchet] He looks at Nate and blinks once, slowly. He looks at the extended arm, then up at the Gnawer. With a heavy sigh he lifts his hand and clasps Nate's wrist -- for roughly two full seconds, before letting go and withdrawing his hand.

He jerks his head at the door. "Both of you, git. I've got a patrol to do and I need privacy while I try and remember how to tie my shoelaces. Shoo."

[Daniel Ingenssen] "Broken Hammer," he replies simply, and then nods at the door. "Goodnight, Alpha."

[End Transmission] There's a lot of strange stuff that happens in this city.

Nobody who has lived here for even a few months could deny that there were things that went bump in the night and sometimes the things that went bump, also grew teeth and claws and snuck in your window while you slept. For the Garou of Maelstrom's Sept, this was especially true. How many times have they heard the terrified screams in the streets, or smelled the indisputable stench of the Wyrm sliding its way through the alleyways?

Tonight -- there are things at play among the snow, but they aim to stain it red, not build snowmen in it.

Echo had made the call to her pack a little while earlier, she'd been out over in the Southside on the job and while circling back to return her Helicopter to the flight-school, her keen eyes had glimpsed something very odd going on behind one of the older meat processing plants. That being; there seemed to be a large amount of meat, stacked outside the back of the factory, left to rot even in this cooler weather.

Call it an inkling; something struck her as wrong.

So she'd doubled-back and snuck through a hole in the chain-link fence.

--

Mr Anderson's Fresh Meats was the name etched on the front of the plant, but the paint was faded, and peeling at the corners. The windows were covered in dust, and were dark when one got close and pressed their hands to the glass to peer inside. From the front, it seemed regular enough. Inside were rows of empty meat hooks, plastic door guards and stainless steel bench-tops with tools set against the wall for carving up the meat before it was hung.

There seemed to be a front serving area for customers, and behind it the frozen storage area proper.

It is around the back that the Sentinels find their Ragabash -- she is sitting on an old barrel, watching the back of the building with a furrowed brow. What she's staring at, the others can smell and soon enough, they'll see -- see what it is that occasioned such totem-linked concern earlier:

Guys, caught sight of something weird flying over some factory in Bronzeville. Think it's that old meat factory, you know the one, Anderson's Meats with the creepy smiling porker face on the logo?

And then again, later:

Oh my Shit. You guys gotta come see this.

What Echo and the others can see, is a stack of meat, rotting where it has been left in the snow, maggots crawl inside it, and during the daylight hours the chaos of blowflies over it must be overwhelming. It is not simply the meat however, that paints the picture as strange.

Pinned to the rolling service entry door is a body. It's been tacked upright with carving knifes, wedged through the wrists and ankles as if in some unholy rendition of the Crucifixion. The face is unrecognisable, only pulp remaining so beaten is it. The chest cavity broken open, white rib bone can be seen among the entrails left to the elements.

The worst of it; written above the body in blood is the cheerful greetings of the season.

MERRY XMAS CHICAGO

[OOC: okay guys, post in as you like, Ethan, since you're probably not with the pack, I'ma let you post first then write you an in. :] ]

[Broken Hammer] (Hatred! Frenzy check. Short Fuse. -2 diff. -1 diff, half moon.)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 8 (Success x 1 at target 2)

[Ethan Yates] There's really no good reason for anyone to be out this time of night. It's cold, for starters, even if one could argue that for the season there is a warmth that doesn't seem fitting; it's raining, for another, that sort of wet misting drear that cuts to the bone and makes one wish for indoors. For a third, it's two days before Christmas, and most sane people are either finishing up their shopping or spending time with their families.

He is not out here because he's meeting someone, or because he's out for a walk, or because he derives pleasure from trolling through the shittier sections of the neighborhood where he lives. The Volvo's in the shop, and the nearest El station has him hoofing it for several blocks, and so here he is, picking up the pace to get past the old meat processing plant before something jumps out at him.

[Buried Hatchet] Check it out. Be careful. If something happens... stay out of it til one of us gets there.

They are not together tonight. Hopefully Daniel and Joey were on patrols; Hatchet was at the caern, tending to a few Graves. The ones of Fianna. He no longer watches over the one to a certain Bone Gnawer. He thinks -- and he may be wrong -- that it's forbidden to him to do so. He does nothing but look at it. He no longer grieves.

Not outwardly.

So he's across the Gauntlet when he hears from Echo, shifting to lupus to run through the penumbra to the part of the city where he senses her, where she told them all she'd be. When he catches sight of her impression in the penumbra, a faint blue glow in the shadow realm indicating where a being that is at least half spirit is in the material realm, Hatchet pulls up short and shifts back to homid before stepping across the boundary between worlds.

He looks at her. And then he looks at the meat. And the body. And the message. His eyes are silvery, reflecting more light than revealing what's inside him. He lets his eyes scan the entire thing, and then he turns back to Echo.

"Joey and Daniel are on their way," is all he says, rather flatly.

[End Transmission] A can rattles in the nearest alleyway Ethan is passing.

Could be anything, nothing to get all worked up about. A few more steps onward and there's what could almost be the sound of someone's heavy breathing, though you'd imagine if that were the case you'd see their breath misting in the freezing cold air.

The can rattles again, and then crunches as if someone had stepped on it.

There's nothing quite as off-putting as the sensation that you're being observed, is there?

[Broken Hammer] When Daniel sees it --

When Daniel sees that display, that sort of horror, that sort of cheerful, jeering atrocity visited upon one man by another, his face blanches with rage. His fists clench. He bares his teeth. His breath blasts out in short, audible, harsh snarls; he literally vibrates with fury.

It's almost surreal, how much anger is inside the rather unassuming, humble, sad-eyed young Fenrir. On a day to day basis one would hardly think him capable of raging, let alone frenzy. Then sometimes it's like a shroud descends over him -- or falls from him -- and his rage is sharp and crystalline, towering like a column of flame, and he can barely control it.

"This is ... " he seems to have lost all human intellect; he stammers for silent moments until the word comes to mind, " ... unspeakable, Alpha. We have to stop it. Now."

Unless rather forcibly restrained, the Forseti starts forward, meaning to heave the rolling door open. Or tear it down. Whichever.


[Resist Pain: ON!]

[Ethan Yates] [Alertness+Perception: Don't Fucking Laugh.]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Face of Death] Joey was not out on patrols. She was not at The Brotherhood, nor was she at the Caern, tending to the grave of her fallen brother. She was out, in an empty parking lot, doing donuts in her car. Some of them were not on accident.

She hears Echo's voice across the link, followed by Hatchet's. It doesn't take her long to get to Bronzeville. The rumble of the engine does not disturb the area around the meat packing plant by virtue of the Rotagar parking a few blocks away and trekking the rest of the way on foot.

When she arrives, she's dressed for the weather, her hood pulled up over her blonde hair, her bomber jacket zipped up, jeans and sneakers to keep her legs warm. Her baseball bag is strapped across her torso.

She sees the pile of meat, the body pinned to the door, the grim message of bloody cheer writ with blood, and her eyes go wide.

[bah! Curiosity]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 5, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[End Transmission] Echo's been staring at that display for a while now and her eyeballs feel as if when she finally closes her lids; the memory of it will be seared to them forever. She's seen a lot of disturbing shit in her time, but this sort of -- well, butchery seems the most fitting term but it's so ironic given where they are that it almost makes her want to laugh hysterically.

Butchered at the butchers -- Christ, it was so damn wrong.

"I've been sitting here watching it," the Glass Walker says quietly. "The whole place. It seems completely dead. I mean," she grimaces. "Not just this poor bastard, but the whole place looks as if it's locked up for the holidays, but then there's all this." She waves at the rotting pile of meat.

"What kind of Butcher's leaves its stock out like this?" She shakes her head slowly, flakes of snow settling in her dark hair.

[Ethan Yates] Eight years ago, there would be absolutely no deliberation as to whether or not he would investigate the innards of the alleyway as he hurried past. Eight years ago it was just him and his oath, it was just his neck he had to worry about, it was just potential that was keeping him alive. Things changed when a little blond boy came into his life, when a little blond boy became his life.

Eight years ago he would have pulled his service pistol and gone towards the alleyway with his voice giving him away. That isn't even an impulse right now. It isn't the first thing that comes to his mind.

What stops him from walking faster, though, isn't that he's forgotten who's at home with the babysitter. It's that he swore an oath, and that oath still defines who he is and what he does. There is no such thing as an off-duty police officer, no such thing as a kinsman on vacation. If he walks away, there is no one else to potentially end a threat to this city that is doing a piss-poor job of defending itself.

So when it registers in his blisteringly bright brain that something in the alleyway was gleaming, he slows. He pauses. He draws a breath.

And then he turns back around.

[Face of Death] [my kinfolk sense is tingling]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] Daniel is, infact, forcibly restrained.

The other Half-Moon's broad hand is clamping down on his shoulder before he's taken more than a couple of steps, hardening and pulling backward if necessary. Hell, if necessary it's not hard to imagine Hatchet putting the lean, dour Fenrir in a headlock without a trace of malice or intent to humiliate.

"Daniel," he says levelly, almost serene-sounding considering the grisly spectacle before them, "we're packed with two No Moons." Duty. "I need you back here, not charging in headfirst." Dominance. His hand tightens. His focus is on the Forseti.

Though he does speak to Echo then: "What kind of meat is it? And how likely do you think it is that this is bait?"

[Face of Death] Joey watches silently as Hatchet restrains Daniel, her hands shoved into the pockets of her coat. She's been quieter lately, not as talkative, and some nights when she goes to bed she lays curled around her pillow before sleep finally takes her.

As she watches, images, impressions made while she hurried to join her packmates, resolve themselves in her mind. A lone figure walking down the street. Curious, she glances back over her shoulder. A moment later she's walking to the end of the building, stopping at the corner like a hound that reaches the end of its tether. Using the building's edge to conceal the bulk of her figure, she looks out. There's a man over there. She sees him hesitate before turning back around.

She doesn't risk alerting whatever created the mess behind the meat plant by calling out across the distance.

Hey, Boss, there's a guy across the street. Little late for a stroll, don'cha think?

[End Transmission] The closer that Ethan gets to the alleyway, the worse the sense of dread gets. It's like walking towards your worst nightmare come to life. It's as if he's headed into an inky black chasm of space that he knows that for all his training, and his skill with arms -- he can't prepare himself for.

The closer Ethan gets -- the easier he can hear the breathing. It seems to hitch as it realizes that the Kinfolk isn't retreating from it but coming closer. It's about the same time that he hears the giggling.

Something is delighted that he's decided to stay and chat.

--

Meanwhile, over at the Meat Factory, poor Daniel is having a hell of a time restraining himself from charging into the fray. His Alpha restrains him, and turns to ask the Ragabash a question. Echo slides down from her long term resting point, rubbing away the numbness in her ass. "It's mostly beef I think, hides of it like you see hanging in freezers. I got as close a look as I wanted to."

That is, too close.

"It's poisoned, or at least it smells like it."

How likely that this is bait?

The young woman's features knit, she looks from the grisly ornament hung to the door to the meat. "Pretty fucking sure, boss. Whoever," she amends, "or whatever left this here was just waiting for someone to stroll in and see it. Maybe that's what happened to this guy."

She stares at the dead corpse a moment, shakes it off.

"I think we should try the other doors, there's one around the front that looks like it goes in through the store, and another on the other side."

[Broken Hammer] Daniel's shoulder is narrow and utterly without give under Taggart's hand. It's hard to tell the difference between muscle sheet and bone girdle; each is as slender and hard as the other. The Forseti lets out an audible snarl at the touch, and then drops forward out of Taggart's hand

and to the ground, fourlegged now, Hispo-form just like that. All four paws braced, head level with his shoulders, he growls softly, ceaselessly at the desecrated body on the door.

He doesn't move forward, though. Not yet.

[Face of Death] [do i hear what you hear? (please say yes!)]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 5 (Botch x 2 at target 8)

[Face of Death] [please at least don't botch]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 6, 6, 8, 8 (Failure at target 9)

[Ethan Yates] His heart is in his goddamn throat. He can feel it thrashing, making breathing almost impossible, and his world has tunneled until there is nothing left but the alleyway and the dread and It. It is breathing as though it's vastly excited, It is giggling as if in absolute delight, and It is sheathed enough in shadow that Ethan can only imagine what it is is in there.

He wants to run. God, he wants to run.

"Chi--" His larynx trips over itself. He winces, draws a breath; draws aside his coat to rest his hand against the butt of his pistol. When he speaks again, his voice is harder. "Chicago PD. Come on out."

[Buried Hatchet] I don't think much about the evening constitutionals of human beings, Hatchet says back to Joey, rather wryly, even as their packmate is dropping down into hispo. Keep an eye on it.

'It'. Because he doesn't know it isn't a human being, it's a kinsman. Then again, they're looking at an enormous pile of potentially poisoned meat with a crucified, eviscerated human body above it, so Hatchet's not entirely convinced that the guy across the street that Joey's checking on is entirely human, either.

He remains on totemphone for the rest of the conversation, taking a deep breath that seems to harden his very being, that seems to make him -- briefly -- carry the stalwart, untouchable resilience of their totem. Let's go in the back. Echo, you're on point. Daniel, behind her. Joey, that guy still there?

Even as he's speaking, he's shifting, dropping down to the same form as the slightly smaller Broken Hammer.

[-1WP, Resist Pain
Shifting to hispo]

[Face of Death] The comparitively small Rotagar leans against the brick facade of the building, keeping an eye on the man across the street. She's too far away to hear the giggling, to far away to make out what the man says. All she knows is that he's not going into the alley.

He's just...talking to it?

Still there. There's someone or something in the alley. Looks like he's talkin' to it.

Now would be a wonderful time for Gifts a No Moon would have. Gifts that make it easy to sneak and scurry and hide. Joey has none of these Gifts.

She glances back over her shoulder, watching as her packmates shift from people figures to huge wolf figures. Then she looks back out across the street, watching.

Waiting.

[End Transmission] "Chicago PD!" The giggling voice sing-songs back at him like some twisted echo and keeps repeating the title in a jeering, high-pitched tone as a shadow seems to disengage from the others toward the other end of the alleyway.

Ethan can glimpse that shining light again, only this time as it scrapescrapescrapes along the brick-wall he can identify what it is, or at least what it sounds to be -- some sort of blade.

"1,2 … coming out to you…"

Sluggish, excited breathing.
A rasping, wet sound.

"3, 4… gonna see you crawl…"

The stench is growing worse, it's enough to cause Ethan to choke, or gag. It's a smell one would couple with fetid meat, of things long rotten and left to grow worse and worse as time wore on. When at last a figure seems to be discernible it's almost too horrific to be believed. It seems to be man of no impressive height, though his face is covered in deep scarring as if at some point in his life he had suffered third degree burns.

The steps he took were by no means rushed, he seemed to be dragging one leg as if it were lamed and both his hands held objects. In the right; a dripping butcher's meat axe, in the left, what appeared to be a dead animal.

The figure giggled.

"You're bigger than a cat! Bigger than a rat. Come to play, little cat?"

--

Echo nods at her Alpha, and shifts into her Hispo form along with her brothers, her coat a mottled brown and grey affair. She takes the lead, and her paws are near silent on the snowy earth as she guides them past the decaying meat -- the pungent oder of which seemed far stronger out of their human skins -- and around to another door, this one quite regular with naught but Staff Entry Only affixed to it by means of a plaque.

End Transmission stops before it, turning her head to await her pack-mates before she reaches for the handle -- and turns it.

The door swings open with a low creak and inside, everything seems hushed; utterly still. They are entering into what must be the staff's quarters, a squashed little room with little in it but an outdated computer, a locker for the coveralls the employee's no doubt wore to deal with the meat products and another door straight on from the first that lead through to the main processing area.

The office had no windows, but for a small pane in the inner door; it was covered by blinds that were half-drawn, hanging lopsidedly over the glass.

All seemed still.

[Resist Pain for Echo, shifting to Hispo.]

[Ethan Yates] It's a sad, strange consolation that this is not the most frightened Ethan Yates has ever been, that this is not the worst situation he has ever lived through; there are scars on his body from encounters both mundane and supernatural that have nearly wrenched him from this earth, there are memories that no indulgence in vice can take away, things he can't unsee, and while this is not the worst, this is the first time in a very long time that he can remember being legitimately terrified.

He thinks of Micah. He thinks of this thing following home if he were to run, thinks of this thing still skulking the streets after he's left, and then his thoughts become instinct, become action: he draws his weapon, leveling it at the madman's chest as he takes one, then two, steps back.

"Drop the knife!" he barks. It's the most ridiculous thing he's said recently.

[Broken Hammer] It's a little better when they leave the mockery of a crucifixion behind.

It's a little easier for Broken Hammer to think. He pads after Echo, head lowering to sniff at the ground. He takes a single whiff of the air near the rotting meat and turns away, snorting out several times.

When the door squeees open, Broken Hammer lifts his head over his packmate's haunches and sniffs the air.

[Broken Hammer] (percep/alert!)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 6, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] [perception + alertness]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Face of Death] Joey pushes off from the wall, watching the scene unfolding across the street. The man at the mouth of the alley, the thing coming for him. Faintly, oh so faintly, she hears the scrape of claws on brick.

Ethan calls out, and she recognizes the voice. In a flash, she remembers the bonfire, a strange handsome man trying to drink with The Sentinels. She doesn't remember much of the night after that.

It's that guy from the bonfire tried to drink with us.

And then the scarred figure emerges, wielding a knife and the carcass of an animal.

Which is awesome, 'cause the thing in the alley's gotta knife.

She doesn't wait for instruction. The man is kinfolk. He might not be her tribe, but he's still someone to be guarded, protected. The girl darts across the road, pulling on Bear's gift even as she shifts, going from freckle-faced blonde teen to hulking grey wolf.

[-1 Rage snapshift to Hispo, -1 WP activate Resist Pain]

[End Transmission] The Office is dusty, and clearly hasn't been in use for a few days, if not more. There are papers stacked haphazardly on the desk that dominates the right wall, and a locker hangs half open behind it, just adjacent to the door the pack-mates enter through. The coveralls hanging in it reek of meat product, and there's the logo for the factory stitched onto the front, the happy porker beaming at them, absurdly proud of his wares.

There's also that other smell.

The scent of rotting meat, of something horrendously rotten seeping through the closed door before them.

It smells like everything they've been told is wrong.

And through the glass window pane of the inner door; they can see a figure, a shadow, moving around.

There's something in there.
to Broken Hammer, Buried Hatchet

[Face of Death] [changing that to a slowshift, THEN running across the street]

[Broken Hammer] (Hatred! Short Fuse! Frenzy Check! Diff 5-2-1=2!)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 2)

[Buried Hatchet] Right now one of his packmates is behind, is not with the others, is watching across the street as ordered and as her curiosity dictates. Hatchet's heavily muscled form is oddly not tense with apprehension; he moves as fluidly and steadily as he always does, even as he brings up the rear behind Echo and Daniel, ears pricked and paws silent as they file through the door, the Ragabash and the Fenrir splitting off from each other so that Hatchet can get past, then coming back together.

They move as a unit. They move like a pack.

Recognition flares briefly in his mind over the totemlink when Joey tells them it's that guy from the bonfire. His name is Ethan, he says, with the undercurrent of thought that Joey might need to call out to him, might need to use it. Then she says that thing in the alley has a knife, and she's shifting and Hatchet is levelling Go! into her mind, unaware that she's shifting into a form in the middle of a street that is not protected by the Veil. He doesn't know, so he can't say anything.

He's slightly distracted.

Because Daniel... just lost his shit.

Though truth be told, this time Hatchet has absolutely no intention of stopping him. Get out of his way, is all he tells Echo, and veers off to the Glass Walker's side.

[Broken Hammer] The instant Broken Hammer lays eyes on movement inside

with that thing outside. with that stench in the air. with that crawling creeping feeling that everything's wrong, it's all wrong and fucked up and perverted beyond repair

it's all over. The Forseti's constant, low growl spikes into a ferocious, snapping, snarling bark. He forgets that he's supposed to stay behind Echo. He forgets his place in the pack. He forgets everything, and a curtain of red drops in his mind.

He leaps, fluidly, his grace preternatural as he soars right over Echo's head. Claws scrabble on concrete and tile when he literally hits the ground running, the stretch of his forepaws reaching for distance, the flex of his hindlegs eating it. In three strides the Forseti crosses the floor. His claws scar the floor when he takes to the air again, slamming into the inner door with all four paws and riding it crashing to the floor.

[End Transmission] Drop the knife, the Bone Gnawer snaps, leveling his weapon at the creature as it stops, tilts its head as if bemused and capable of comprehension of what on earth he means.

It drops the dead cat, instead.

"Gonna see how you work, little cat."

The blade is lifted; it fits heavily, perfectly in one scarred hand that is missing a finger or two. The clothing the man wears are faded, torn, bloodied up. He stinks to high heaven with Gaia only knows what -- and he takes another step toward Ethan, lifts that butcher's knife and drives it downward at the Kin's body.

--

Echo is sniffing at the air, sensing that growing feeling of foreboding and utter wrong when she feels all the fur on her body rise. Her pack-mate has just spotted the figure shuffling around inside the factory -- and he's lost control of his senses.

She doesn't need to be told twice to get out of the way as Daniel's claws scrabble across the tiled floor and he leaps over her, colliding with a door that was not built to endure such beatings -- the wood and glass shatter and the Garou goes down hard, tangled in the blinds that once protected the inner workings of the meat plant from the office.

Inside --

There are rows of empty meat hooks, the chains faintly jangling as they're jostled by the air of Daniel's sudden entry. Across the span of steel tables set up for treating the meat; the hoses hung on the wall, there is the figure they've been searching for chopchopchopping at something long dead and bloodied on the table.

Blood dribbles down the drain.

The figure looks up; and without a word, shoves aside the workbench in favor of the new toys he's been given. The face is hidden behind a child's mask -- the crying face of Sadness mocks the Garou as the sound of a chainsaw being revved brings sudden din where before there was silence.

[Inits!]

[Buried Hatchet] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9

[Ethan Yates] [+6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4

[Face of Death] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Broken Hammer] +9!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[End Transmission] Echo [+10]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[End Transmission] Freddy Half-Kruger
[+8]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3

[End Transmission] Jason Needs Some Friends
[+8]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10

[End Transmission] [Declare Order

Hatchet 18
Jason 18
Echo 16
Joey 14
Freddy 11
Daniel 10
Ethan 10

Declare in reverse!]

[Ethan Yates] [1a: Shoot!
1b: Shoot!
1c: Shoot! With a shot of WP.]

[End Transmission] Daniel

1. Bite Jason!
R1. Bite Jason!
R2. Chomp moar! I IZ ANGRY
R3. Chomp

Freddy

1a. Slash Ethan
1b. Slash Joey
R1. Slash Ethan again
R2. Slash Joey!

Jason

1a. Sawsawsaw the Garouuuuu! Daniel
1b. Saw Daniel again
R1. Saw Hatchet
R2. Saw Echo]

[Face of Death] [1a: bite knife hand (called shot), spending WP
1b: Bitey
R: Bitey some more
All attacks on Freddy]

[Buried Hatchet] [Reflexive: Telling Echo over totemlink to hold back (ie, not use Rage) in case she needs to heal him or Daniel.]

[End Transmission] [Echo:
1a. Jam Technology on the Chainsaw
1b. Bite Jason's arm]

[Buried Hatchet] [1a. Move to flank Jason
1b.
R1.
R2. ...all bites on Jason]

[Buried Hatchet] [1b. Bite! -3 (split) // -1 diff (flanked)]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 8 (Success x 5 at target 4) [WP]

[Buried Hatchet] [Damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Jason Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 7 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Jason 1a. Saw Daniel! -2 Split Action]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[End Transmission] [Damage for Chainsaw!]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Broken Hammer] (soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Jason 1a. Saw Daniel! -3 Split Action]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[End Transmission] [Damage]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Broken Hammer] (soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] [Reflexive: He feels really bad about this, you guys, but Hatchet's calling dibs on Echo's second split to go HEAL THE FRENZIED ASSHOLE.]

[End Transmission] [Echo! Jam Technology! -1 Gnosis -2 Split Action + WP]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 7 (Failure at target 9) [WP]

[End Transmission] [Second Split: Heal Daniel! -3 split]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[Face of Death] [1a: bite knife hand: dex + brawl - 2, diff + 2 (called shot)]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 7, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 4 at target 7) [WP]

[Face of Death] [damaeg: str + 2 + 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Freddy Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Face of Death] [1b: Bitey on Freddy: dex + brawl - 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 4, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Face of Death] [damage: str + 2 + 2]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[End Transmission] [1a. Slash Ethan! -2 Split Action -2 Wound penalty]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 7, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[End Transmission] [Damage on Ethan]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] Ethan
[Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[End Transmission] [Freddy 1b. Slash Joey! -3 Split -2 Owie]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 7 (Failure at target 7)

[Broken Hammer] CHOMP!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[Broken Hammer] +4!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Jason, soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] Ethan
[1a. Shooting Freddy. Dex + Firearms -3 (split), -1 (ow)]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] [Damage. 4 + 1]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 6, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] Ethan
[1b. Shooting Freddy. Dex + Firearms -4 (split) -1 (ow)]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Freddy - Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] [Damage. 4 + 0]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] Ethan
[1c. Shooting Freddy. Dex + Firearms -5 (split) -1 (ow) WTF MAN YOU GOT NO DICE.
-1 WP]

[Buried Hatchet] [Damage. 4 + 0]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[End Transmission]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [...that was Freddy soaking, which he sucks at.]

[Buried Hatchet] [R1. BITCH YOUR ASS IS STILL FLANKED.]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 4) Re-rolls: 3

[Buried Hatchet] [YEAH THAT'S RIGHT. SUCK IT FOR DADDY.]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Jason - Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Jason - R1! Chainsaw Hatchet!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[End Transmission] [Damage + 0]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 4, 5, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] [Dude, don't bring that weak shit to my house.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 5, 7, 9 (Failure at target 6)

[Face of Death] [R: How much teeth do you want?]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 7, 10 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[Face of Death] [damage: str + 2 + 0 (None? KINKY!)]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Freddy, owww.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Freddy R1: Slash Ethan -2 owwie]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[End Transmission] [Damage + 2]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] Ethan
[Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 5, 5 (Failure at target 8)

[Broken Hammer] R1. ME FENRIR, ME CHOMP!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[Broken Hammer] Damage: ME CHOMP HARD!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Jason - Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] [R2!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] [Damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Jason Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] [Attack was diff 5, suxx = 4. 1 more damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [R2 Jason - Saw Echo!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8 (Failure at target 8)

[End Transmission] [R2: Freddy - Slash Joey -2 Owwie]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 7)

[End Transmission] [Damage]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Face of Death] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Broken Hammer] R2: MOAR BITEY.
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Broken Hammer] Damage +1
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Broken Hammer] R3: EVEN MOAR BITEY.
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2

[End Transmission] [Jason - Ack! Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Broken Hammer] Damage +3
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 6, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[End Transmission] In the alleyway all that can be heard are the vicious snarls of an angered Garou; the clang of a knife being wielded, over and over and the excited breathing of the Gorehound as it advances on the Werewolf and her Kin. Face of Death leaps upon the monster after it hacks at the police officer's chest, slicing him open and mauls the once-man's wrist nearly off the bone; but still he does not lose his weapon, still he giggles with a maniac's pure glee as he strikes out at the Garou, again and again.

His shrieks of glory are only intensified when he connects with the Rotager's body and sees the splatter of blood shining off his blade; decorating the alleyway walls. Ethan fires then -- the gun-blasts ricocheting around walls, the bullets penetrating into the torso of the creature and seeping blood; they stagger Freddy -- but they don't stop him.

Nothing can stop him.
With a yell, he charges.

--

Meanwhile, within Mr Anderson's Meat Goods, the other Gorehound, the far more malicious Gorehound who was responsible for the macabre decorations outside was having a wonderful time of it, revving his chainsaw and wildly swinging it out at the Garou he suddenly finds surrounding him.

End Transmission attempts to channel the Gift taught her by Gremlin to stifle the roar of the machine in the monster's hands but she cannot quite seem to focus enough to damage it; instead, she leaps across the space between herself and her pack-brother and lays her hand upon him to heal. The Fianna, sensing the time was right for a more stealthy approach, snuck behind the rear of the Gorehound and struck; his teeth sinking into the flesh and bone but not quite managing to do the damage they ought.

Again and again they strike, the Sentinels united and outside on the street -- their pack sister doing what she could alongside one not her tribe against his deadly playmate.

It is not until Broken Hammer, incensed from the beginning and in full frenzy, leaps at the tainted creature and tears at it, pulling great chunks of flesh from its limbs that the Garou begin to feel that they may win out after all. The creature who called itself Jason was bleeding; but it still carried its weapon, and it wasn't going to stop until it was torn asunder.

[new inits!]

[End Transmission] [Declare Order

Hatchet 18
Jason 18
Echo 16
Joey 14
Freddy 11
Daniel 10
Ethan 10

Declare in reverse!]

[Buried Hatchet] Ethan
[1a. Shoot Freddy
1b. 3RB on Freddy]

[End Transmission] Daniel
[1. Bite Jason!
R1. Bite Jason!
R2. Bite Jason!]

Freddy
[1a. Slash Joey
1b. Slash Joey
R1. Slash Ethan
R2. Slash Joey again!]

[Face of Death] [1a. Bite
1b. Bite + WP
R. Bite
All on Freddy]

[End Transmission] Echo
[1a. You are giving UP that chainsaw! Jam Technology again
1b. Bite Jason]

[End Transmission] Jason
[WHIRR WHIRR!
1a. Slice 'n dice Hatchet
1b. Repeat on Hatchet
R1. Slice Daniel
R2. Slice Echo]

[Buried Hatchet] [1a.
1b.
1c. -- all bites on Jason]

[Buried Hatchet] [1a. -3]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2

[Buried Hatchet] [Damage. +3]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Jason Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] [1b. -4]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Buried Hatchet] [Damage. + 1]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

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

[Buried Hatchet] [Damage. +3]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [I JUST WANTED SOME FRIENDS - Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Face of Death] [1a: Bite!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5)

[Face of Death] [damage + 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Freddy Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 6, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[Face of Death] [1b: Bite!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 5 at target 5) [WP]

[Buried Hatchet] [Reflexive: When Jason drops, Hatchet's voice echoes across the totemlink, the roar of a bear whose den is being threatened, whose cubs are being glared at. Echo! Go to Joey!]

[Face of Death] [damage + 4]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[End Transmission] Freddy
[1a. Slash Joey! -2]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[End Transmission] [Damage + 0]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Face of Death] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 5, 5, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Face of Death] [rageback!]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 3 (Failure at target 8) [WP]

[Face of Death] [*squeegees out that rageback*]

[End Transmission] Freddy
[1b. Slash Joey -3]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8 (Failure at target 8)

[Buried Hatchet] Ethan
[1a. Shoot it! Dex + Firearms -2 (split) -1 (ow)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 4, 5 (Success x 1 at target 6) [WP]

[Buried Hatchet] [Damage. 4 + 0]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] Ethan
[1b. Shoot it 3 times very very fast! Dex + Firearms + 3 (3RB) -3 (split) -1 (ow)]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Buried Hatchet] [Damage. 4 + 1]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Freddy Soak 1]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Soak 2!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Freddy R1: Slash Joey! Cuz I'm like, evil and shit. - injuries]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 5, 9, 10, 10 (Failure at target 8)

[End Transmission] [Freddy R2: Slash Ethan! -injuries!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 5, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 8)

[End Transmission] [Damage + 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] Ethan
[NOOO I WANT TO LIIIIIIIIIVE]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[End Transmission] The Gorehound within the Meat Factory barely has time to raise his chainsaw for the next blow before Buried Hatchet is upon him and his vengeance is unstoppable. The Fianna Fostern rips into the Gorehound's flesh and tears great chunks of it away from his torso -- in the wake of it, the creature calling itself Jason when really it is nothing more than Jason's shell and a monster within -- rocks on his feet, trembles and abruptly, bloodily -- falls.

The chainsaw whirrs on amongst the gore that had been a monster plaguing the city's streets, the sound of the tainted creature's blood trickling down the drain the only other sound to be heard. Such is the way with these battles that they are often impossibly vicious and inhumanly fast.

--

Meanwhile, in the alleyway Face of Death is not faring quite so well against the one known as Freddy. The Gorehound's blade is red, absolutely red by this point and the Kinsman is clutching at his side where the sharp-edged blade had been driven against it, again and again. Empty vessels that they were now, these monstrosities feel nothing, see nothing but the pain and death they inflict.

Joey is near collapse, the Gorehound does not fare much better; wet with his own fluids, but still -- like a nightmare -- he comes for her.

Even as he does -- the bounding figure of the Glass Walker appears from out of the factory, her great form headed to aid her pack-mate.

[Broken Hammer] I can see clearly now!
+9
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[End Transmission] [+10]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[End Transmission] Freddy
[+8]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[End Transmission] [Declare order:

Echo 15
Hatchet 14
Freddy 13
Daniel 10

Joey: X_0]

[Buried Hatchet] [+6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7

[Broken Hammer] 1a. run over!
b. jawlock freddy for someone else to keell.

[Buried Hatchet] Ethan
[1a. 3RB on Freddy]

[End Transmission] Freddy
[1a. Slash at Joey
1b. Slash at Ethan, stop shootin' me!
R1. Slash whoever comes near!]

[Buried Hatchet] [1a. Mother's Touch on Joey
1b. Gaia's Breath on Ethan
1c. Bite Freddy, he's fugly]

[End Transmission] [Echo:
1a. RAR BITE
1b. RAR BITE
R1. RAR BITE]

[End Transmission] [1a. Bite Freddy! -2 Split]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 6, 8, 9 (Failure at target 5)

[End Transmission] [1b. Bite Freddy! -3 Split]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[End Transmission] [Damage + 1]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Freddy Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] [1a. Mother's Touch on Josephine. Int + Medicine. -1G]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]

[Buried Hatchet] [1b. Gaia's Breath on Ethan. -1G. Look Ma, No More Lethal.]

[Buried Hatchet] [1a. Mother's Touch on Josephine. Int + Medicine -3 (split) -1G]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]

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

[Buried Hatchet] [Damage. +3]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 7, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Soak Freddy]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Freddy 1a. Slash at Joey! -2 Split -owies]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 8)

[End Transmission] [Damage]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 4, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Face of Death] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 6, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [1b. Same to Ethan!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[End Transmission] [Damage]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] Ethan
[Soak. Fuck you. I have a child, man. WHERE IS YOUR DECENCY, WYRM-MINION?]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 5, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Buried Hatchet] Ethan
[3RB]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7) [WP]

[Buried Hatchet] [Damage. 4 + 4 I WAS NOT KIDDING. FUCK YOU.]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 5, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Broken Hammer] (jawlock! full dice pool!)
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[End Transmission] [Freddy - LOL petty human]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 6, 7, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Broken Hammer] (str+ath+4)
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 3, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [R1: Bite Freddy!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 10 at target 3)

[End Transmission] [Damage?]
Dice Rolled:[ 16 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Soak?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 6, 7, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Freddy: SLASH Daniel! +2 diff partially immobilized -2 dice owies]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 7, 7, 7, 7, 10 (Failure at target 10)

[End Transmission] [ST ruling: since he's soannoyingclose to dying but WON'T QUIT, I'm going to rule that Echo and Hatchet, with Daniel immobilizing him, finish off Freddy. RIP Freddy, you mean bastard.

Re-cap coming!]

[End Transmission] Two Gorehounds.
Four Garou.
One Kinfolk with a gun.

It shouldn't seem so hard to imagine what the outcome would be of such a battle. While the Gorehound Freddy wielded a heavy butcher's knife at Face of Death and Ethan Yates; the pair had weapons of their own. They had guns and teeth and claw.

But the Wyrm was never so easily destroyed; it was insidious, and it was sneaky. It ducked when it should have died, it dodged when a claw should have lopped off its head. And it withstood an amazing amount of beating by a pack of Garou before it finally, finally … fell. It takes the Alpha of the Sentinels and the combined strength of the Glass Walker No Moon and Fenrir to finally silence Freddy's laughter.

It trickles to a gurgle, the fingers slacken around the knife and with one last forceful bite, Hatchet severs the thing's head from its shoulders and it drops like a rotten coconut, rolling against the alleyway floor. The knife clatters down beside the ruined corpse and the poor animal that had met its end so soon before the Sentinels had discovered its lair.

Abruptly -- where before there was violence and horror everywhere around them -- there is suddenly only silence.

Bronzeville the nights before Christmas.
The faint noise of traffic.
But nothing else going bump in the night where it ought not.

[Broken Hammer] Broken Hammer shouldn't, by all rights, even be here right now.

He should be running mad in the streets, howling, tearing into one (imagined) foe after another. Or curled and wild-eyed under some makeshift shelter, snapping at any who came near. Or...

...anything, really, but here, pinning the last gorehound down while his Alpha tears into it.

When it's over, the Forseti's breath frosts white in the air with every panting exhale. He's shaking all over from rage, from adrenaline, from the aftereffects of frenzy. Foaming slaver is still gathered at the corners of his mouth, pink with blood. For a moment he stares around, glassy-eyed, as though not entirely sure of where he is, or how he got here, or what he was doing, even, outside the building and across the street from the last place he remembered being in -- with a creature he's never seen before seized in his jaws.

Then all at once he drops the dead thing and prostrates himself, going to his belly, whining his contrition to his Alpha and his pack. He broke rank. He disobeyed orders. He lost his fool head, dividing their efforts, nearly costing them the battle.

[Buried Hatchet] One of these things opened up a human being, pinned it with knives to the wall, made his packmate frenzy. One of these things shredded long swaths of bloody pain through his packmate's body. This thing nearly killed his Rotagar. This thing stabbed and slashed at a passing kinsman over

and over again.

The sound of gunshots has ceased to resonate from wall to wall in the alleyway, Ethan having lowered his gun as the pack of hispo-formed wolves dogpiled on the gorehound and began tearing it to pieces. Literally, savagely, rending limbs from torso, biting out chunks of muscle and raking teeth across bone, until finally the largest of the four decapitates the thing that shrugged off so many of their attacks, so many of Ethan's bullets.

When it's over, Buried Hatchet is soaked in the blood of two fomori. There's a wound on him, comparatively small -- considering how bad it could have been. It's just a slash from the chainsaw across his stomach. It'll heal in a day. Joey is recovering from a literal near-death. Daniel is still in the process of coming back down from a frenzy that saw him attacking one fomor in the meat plant over and over until it was dead, then rushing out and across the street to jump on this one. Echo and Hatchet have both healed the others with quick touches. Ethan has dust on him from a broken gourd, his clothes bloodstained by his body bearing only one long cut on his chest now. It'll heal. Not in a day, but fast enough. Faster than a mortal would.

Hatchet, for the longest time, stands on all fours over the corpse of the gorehound, his sides heaving not from rapid breath but from the sheer effort of control. His rage eclipses his will right now, strains at his ability to restrain himself. His fur is on end, his teeth bared, his golden eyes gleaming with bloodlust and wrath.

If he could speak right now, he might tell Daniel No. I shouldn't have let Joey fight alone. I should have called her back to us, or sent Echo sooner, or we all should have investigated the alley, or --

There's any number of ways he could take responsibility, as their Alpha and as a Half Moon. But right now, when Daniel crawls on the ground on his belly and whimpers, keens, Hatchet just whips his head around and snarls at him. It's part demand for silence. It's part expression of dominance. It's partly just that... he feels like death stalking the darkness right now, and he wants something to kill. It is not a good time to feel weak, or feel vulnerable, in front of this Fianna.

Which brings us to Ethan. Whose reserves of inner strength are tapped, whose gun is hot in his hand, who was healed and then injured again, who just watched a pack of werewolves send blood and tissue flying in an alleyway, which is a gruesome and terrible sight no matter how experienced one is. Someone -- perhaps Echo, of a tribe once called the Warders of men, or perhaps Joey, the defender of kinfolk -- tells Ethan he should go. And for whatever reasons (they are his own), Ethan goes, away from the wild things, away from the scene.

When he's gone, some of the tension actually seems to leave the Sentinels' Alpha. He does not have to worry so much about keeping control, does not have to worry about the near-human. He is with his pack. It will be alright, even if his rage pushes at the very boundaries of his skull, seeming to threaten his very sanity. He pads a few steps over to Joey, and nudges at her with his muzzle in question.

[Face of Death] Joey throws herself at the gorehound, snapping her jaws, trying to break its arm, trying to destroy it as she's destroyed so many other agents of the Wyrm.

Luck is not on her side. She bites and nothing happens. The thing slashes at her with a blade, a simple blade, and wears her down. It's her blood that pools in the dark alleyway. And in the end she, great warriors of Fenris, had to be protected by a kinfolk. She had to be revived by her alpha.

When she opens her eyes to look around, her first thought is that at least Charlie isn't here to see her, lying on the ground in the middle of battle, her clothing slashed, covered in her own blood. The thought is pushed away and she takes in the scene around her. Her brothers and her sister, each sporting blood both their own and belonging to the hounds. The kinfolk, his clothing slashed, blood from wounds healed soaking the fabric.

Daniel throws himself to the ground, prostrating himself before Hatchet. It's not until Joey's reaching into her bag for her cleansing gear that she remembers the talens, the small vials of Gaia's Breath that Hatchet gave her when they fought spiders in the Umbra. The thought that she could have healed herself -- or healed the kinfolk at least -- and didn't makes her wince. She failed as a warrior. She failed as a healer.

She has to get better, stronger, more resilient. She has got to stop fucking dying all the time.

There are a lot of things Joey needs to do. First is tell Ethan to go on his way, go home to what family he may have, and be glad he'll see another sunrise. Hatchet nudges at her. 5'7", by most standards, is not small. Standing among her Hispo-formed packmates, Joey is tiny, child-sized. She meets the golden gaze of her alpha, and a corner of her mouth twitches, the closest she's come to smiling without the aid of alcohol in almost two weeks.

A moment later she shifts up, becoming taller, bulkier, shaggier. Her nails thicken into something like claws, her jaw becomes heavier as it nears a shape that more closely resembles a canine's. Her wounds will heal soon.

She holds up a vial of water and a willow switch in question. It's late, the streets are mostly empty, but the alley is still very close to the realm of humans.

[Broken Hammer] If Broken Hammer's rage were higher, his hackles would go up when he's snarled at. Other than that, however, his reaction would be the same:

His ears pin back. He keeps his chin to the ground, lying there until his Alpha's attention has moved on.

When Joey starts cleansing, the Forseti slowly gets to his feet -- forequarters first, then hind. He turns away, pivoting on his haunches, loping into the building. A moment later he's back, dragging the body of the other gorehound, neck arched against the weight. He lays it beside the first, and then sits to wait for the Cleansing to finish.

[Buried Hatchet] They're okay. Echo is fine. Daniel is up again, Joey is cleansing and healing herself. Hatchet settles down somewhat, but there's still a sharp edge to his voice when he tells both of the Cliaths to stop what they're doing. They have a dead human and a ton of rotted meat to deal with, too.

He has them get the body of the knife-wielding fomor and even the corpse of the small dog he'd been dragging around across the street and into the plant with the gorehound with the chainsaw. They'll cleanse there, remove the taint from all of it, the plant and the bodies and the meat, just in case. The poor dead sap who Hatchet insists they pull down and keep separate from the gorehounds.

He and Joey Cleanse.

He and Joey and Daniel and Echo clean up. It takes a relentless, exhausting amount of time. Hatchet, at least, gets a little easier to be around -- he burns his rage to shift into crinos while hauling bodies and meat around, climbing up a wall to get a body down. He brings down the level of his own fury until he can manage it, and at random, odd little intervals, he touches them. They aren't lingering touches, but firm. A hand on a shoulder. On the back of a neck. A nudge between their sides.

It's all thoughtlessly done, regardless of blood and gore covering them. They survived. Two goddamn gorehounds, should have taken moments, but Joey nearly died and Daniel frenzied and it could have been much, much worse than it was. He doesn't talk a lot. They get the cleansing done, and since neither of the fomori were mutated, this time

they use fire.

Granted, after they've gotten the four of them into Cassius and away from the plant, Hatchet waits awhile -- they need to get away, and the fire needs time to work -- and has Echo call the fire in to emergency. No sense in letting it get out of control. Besides: there is a body there, outside the plant, and his body needs to be recognizable so that they can find his family, tell them that he died, give them this news before Christmas.

But Christmas means nothing to Buried Hatchet. All he knows is that if it were his son, or his brother, or his partner, he would want to know. He would want to stop wondering.

For the second time since Charlie's death, Hatchet sleeps in Room 8. After getting washed, after they've all showered away the blood and the grime, after the last patrol has been done, after he's sure they're all safe. He sleeps on the rug, heedless of the dirty laundry here or there, and he stays with his pack.

They all stay together.

[Joey] [Bonfire begins, woosh!

Please tag your posts with the following handy dandy color-coded chart:

Longhouse
Main Fire
Cooking Fires
Other]

[Joey] [um, replace Main Fire with Main Fire]

[Wendy Berber] [food set up in the longhouse?]

[Joey] [food is being cooked around the cooking fires and can be taken into the long house for eats]

[Wendy Berber] *Its nearing on Christmas, that diluted christian celebration wherein a fat man breaks into houses and leaves presents under a plastic tree. The air would be nippy, were it not for all the fires crackling about the campsite. Its warm enough near the cooking fires that a toothpick kin can get away with a bulky sweatshirt and baggy bluejeans, rather than her dreadfully warm tweed coat. She'd come with the kin from the brotherhood for the third time this year, helping once more with the preparation of food and site. This time however, she's surprised to see a Longhouse has been erected, and she's taken a moment away from helping to scout the interior, wondering if it were some specific purpose, or just for shelter. Her voice echoes though the structure.*

Um..Hello?

[Joey] [Other]

The arrival of some of the Sentinels in the parking area is heralded by the rumbling roar of Cassius' engine. Their youngest member, the slight, athletic blonde Rotagar is behind the wheel. She's been quieter in recent weeks, her smile all but forgotten. Her freckled face is drawn, and there are dark circles beneath her dark brown eyes. It's almost as if having taken over Charlie's old bed, Joey has inherited his disfigurement. She sleeps rarely, if at all lately.

Regardless, she takes curves and turns too fast, and guns it on the straightaways. Despite any complaints from her packmates, who may not yet be accustomed to her style of driving.

She pulls into the parking lot, and the others pile out. Joey is dressed in jeans, boots, and her puffy, bright red winter coat. The hood gets pulled up over her blonde head, her hands are shoved into her coat pockets, and she looks around.

Snow has fallen on the clearing where they built the longhouse and helped set up the bonfire areas. The kinfolk of The Brotherhood have been hard at work, cooking meats and laying out platters here and there. There are vats of warm cider. Bonfire attendees are encouraged to grab their food and take it into the shelter, where another fire burns for warmth.

Joey leaves her football in the car this time. She doesn't feel like playing sports, but she wants to stay near her pack. So she keeps close to Daniel or Echo, and she watches others arrive silently.

[Hatchet] The Alpha of the Sentinels took one look at the Camaro, took another look at the two Fenrir and the Walker, then simply laughed and walked away. He arrives shortly after they do, but not at the parking lot. He's in the longhouse when he comes out of the penumbra, a thick-furred wolf with bright gold eyes sniffing the air for his packmates.

[Edward Bellamonte] Edward needed to relax. He needed some drinks and a few games of cards. To that end, he packed up a card table (he'd helped with long house and benches, but didn't remember if there were going to be tables or not) and nudged at Gabbie until she agreed to come. Now, with said card table, sister and several not-yet-mentioned decks of cards, he's pulling into the parking lot nearest the clearing of which they're availing themselves.

"Are you going to play," he asks, once they're parked and out and he's pulling the table out of the trunk, "or just hang out somewhere?"

[Drew Roscoe] Drew Roscoe had discovered a new Kinfolk that lived in her area, one that she'd actually known for a little while but had no idea of being involved in the same topsy-turvy world of monsters and bad guys that she'd been dropped abruptly into. But she had a way to contact him by phone, knew that the bonfire was coming up by way of Kinfolk Phone Tree (or, more to the point, Lonna and Gina), and decided she'd extend the invitation. He could be her anchor of normalcy if everything went way too far south. So she'd called up the Bradley residence, asked for Keron, and told him that she was picking him up, to be ready at such-and-such time.

Drew was waiting outside his front door in a truck that probably belonged in a scrapyard. It was overlarge for a girl her size to be driving, a massive hunk of forest green metal on wheels that had rolled off the construction line in the mid nineties. She grinned big at him when he opened the door to climb in, patted the seat beside her invitingly. He'd climb in, no matter how reluctant he might be of the death trap, and they were off.

They'd pull into the parking lot with her stereo blaring, creating a hum of noise inside the cab that was kept muffled because of the windows being rolled up. The windshield was clear, but everything else was fogged over, the poor old truck just couldn't defrost like today's cars could, and had no chance against two Kinfolk singing at the top of their lungs to a variety of music found on shared iPods connected to the stereo by way of cassette adapter. The truck would turn off, the music would silence, and Drew would pile out of her truck laughing and stuffing her keys into her pocket. "I have no idea how we're going to prove it, but I'm pretty sure you deserve an award of some sort for that Mariah Carry note. Well done, Mr. Bradley, well done."

Drew was dressed in what she thought would be the most functional. She had on a red sweater that hugged the thermal undershirt beneath it, a puffy white vest, along with a white scarf and white earmuffs. Her hair was wrangled in a ponytail, and her jeans were tucked into the ankles of her heavy brown hiking boots. She moved around to the back of her truck to grab the two large cases of beer (Budweiser, of course) that had been sliding around, holding one out to Keron for him to take before shouldering hers and marching the route that she'd fled sobbing the last time she was here.

[Jeff Pyeon] Jeff actually took a day off work - the Korean Glass Walker's been 'out in the fucking woods freezing his ass off' for long enough to accept large deliveries of firewood and booze, all of which he wrestled back to the long house either by himself or with help from whatever kin and Garou happened to be gathered early. Now, he's hanging out at the main fire, rubbing hands together and keeping an eye out for people he knows.

[Joey] [Please tag your posts with the following handy dandy color-coded chart:

Longhouse
Main Fire
Cooking Fires
Other

Food is being made around those smaller cooking fires and can be taken into the long house for eats. There are benches inside for sitting.]

[Wendy Berber] Inside Longhouse -- *There's the soft rush of air rushing to fill a vacuum, and Wendy twitches where she stands, a gold eyed wolf suddenly appearing inside the longhouse, where none had been before. A hard swallow, and a forced nervous smile to the creature as she plucks at her sweater and tilts her head.*

Oh my. Oh. Uh - Hello.

*A wiggle of fingers from the hand not worrying a thread, Wendy tripping over herself to be pleasant. Hoping against hope that this Bonfire would be better than the last one.*

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Other

Gabriella had been talked into leaving the Loft by her older brother, which she thought was perhaps one of the biggest plot twists of the month. Edward Bellamonte had returned to the city a changed man, a recluse, someone who was wary about answering the door just because he didn't want to have to talk to people. Now here he was, dragging a playing table out of the trunk of his car, pockets full of card decks, all ramped up for the biggest social events of the season for Chicago's resident Gaians.

Gabriella stood with a crocheted hat and scarf on her head and about her neck to keep her warm, a plethora of golds, purples, reds and browns and almost delicately soft to the touch. She'd wrapped herself up in her heavy black peacoat and worn sturdy black boots that came up to her knees, pants tucked into them so she wouldn't be walking on soggy cuffs when she finally went home.

She was applying a coat of chapstick to her lips before helping her brother with the card table.

"I'm uncertain. It depends, I suppose, on who's there and what's said."

[Hatchet] Longhouse
He's met her before. The last solstice, the first bonfire. Hatchet tips his head at Wendy as she stammers and tugs at her clothes, blinking once. Slowly. Lazily. It makes him look more threatening, strangely enough, as though he's considering eating her.

He does not eat Wendy, though. He stretches once, paws splayed out in front of him and back arched, tail in the air, then rises up -- and into homid, a single smooth motion from one form to another, all fours to two legs.

"Hello, Wendy," he says. He remembers her name. She's Boy's mate. He remembers that, too.

[Wendy Berber] Longhouse - interior *She's looked over like an appetizer, a thread suddenly jerked a little too hard from her sleeve, unravelling in her hands as Hatchet slides from wolf to man as easy as can be. A trick that gets a more genuine smile despite herself. It was Taggart.*

Oh! I didn't recognize you sir. Um.. are you well?

*Twiggy fingers slip to scratch under her hair, other hand laying flat across her stomach as it grumbles. The beanpole looks down with a slight purse of lips. Always so hungry lately. Damn Parasite.*

I just put some ribs out? They probably aren't going to be so good once they cool.

[Keron Bradley] Other
"We could have taken my truck, you know," is all the ever-cheerful Child of Gaia said as he climbed up into the truck, and then there'd been chatting and signing along with the radio (Keron's remarkably versed in many kinds of music, R&B to country, rock to rap, and more) all the way out. This is a part of Chicago that he's not witnessed yet, and it pleases him to see the woods, though, "Jesus, it's cold. Shoulda worn another layer."

His light brown curls (it's totally dye, as his goatee and mustache are black) are tending a bit towards the long, and he's dressed in a lot of layers already - down coat on top of everything else, obscuring everything but his ears and hair. His feet are in sturdy, if inexpensive, steel toed work boots.

"This just like Thanksgiving, where everyone hangs around and talks?"

[Hatchet] Longhouse
"Well enough," he says, and he might say this if his packmate had not just died. He might say this if the Apocalypse were tomorrow. You do what you can, when you can. You move on. Hatchet shrugs one broad shoulder and looks at her hand falling to her stomach, then at her face.

"Are you sick?"

[Edward Bellamonte] Other
"Well, ye, of course it depends," he says with a roll of his eyes; it would appear talking's done him a little good, at least, if not as much as one might hope. He is, of course, focusing quite intently on the possibility of gambling, be it for chocolate or coins or cars, he doesn't care. Were it not for that possibility, he'd still be in the loft, hunched up in whatever sweats or pajamas he'd happened to be wearing all day. Who knows? There might be someone, or something, interesting that he'd miss if he weren't here, and he can always leave if not.

He wears nice slacks, fine shoes, and a deep purple-blue (almost black) shirt with a lighter tie, with a navy peacoat over the top. His hair is neatly brushed, though he hadn't bothered with a cut - he is, in fact, looking the most together he has since he returned to Chicago, though he's still far from at his best. He still looks like he should eat two meals for everyone else's one, at least for a week, and his brown eyes are still too dark, too haunted.

"Stay with me until we know who's here, yeah?"

And then it's for the longhouse.

[Ethan Yates] Longhouse

There's more snow out in the mainland than there is butted up against the lake, the vast expanse of water offering some measure of protection against the brutal winter the Midwest provides, and the ground crunches and protests when boots and sneakers trounce upon it. It's an announcement to those who are near enough to hear footfalls echoing in the distance; those inside the longhouse are not aware of the presence of a newcomer until his form appears in the doorway.

Not a speck of breeding flows through his blood, but neither is he a scraggly, unwashed sort. He's tall, over six feet so, his build trim and hidden beneath a black peacoat, with dark, closely-cropped hair and blue eyes. His skin retains some of the vestiges of summer even in December, not a deep bronze yet still somewhat golden, and he carries himself as though he knows what he is getting into. There is no timidity or fear in his stance, nor is there the bulge of a firearm on his person. That may be of some comfort given the events that have transpired as of late, for those who have heard about the reason why the Caern is now off limits to Kinfolk.

He stands still for a moment, looking around the interior of the recently-constructed building, and takes a deep breath. His breath steams when he lets it out, and disappears when he steps over the threshold.

[Drew Roscoe] Other to Main Fire

"Thanksgiving?"

The Kinfolk looked perplexed, tossing a glance back over her shoulder to the other Kinfolk that marched along with her up the path. She blinked once, then shrugged, adjusted her hold on the large case of beer bottles (it was a mercy none of them broke, but then she wasn't a terribly aggressive driver), and looked back forward. "I don't know. I was with my dad on Thanksgiving. But that sounds about right. There's massive fires--" duh. It's called a Bonfire for a reason. Plus, they can already see the flickering red of firelight against the skeletal winter trees. "-- and lots of food. Usually some sort of roughhousing. Someone'll probably flip their shit and go running off into the woods--" hopefully not Thomas this time around "--and everyone drinks and eats and has a jolly old time."

Keron had bundled himself up in many layers, sweater upon long sleeved shirt upon winter coat, and yet he forgot to wear a hat. Drew was one of those kids that played out on snowpiles and went skating on ponds behind some neighbor kid's house. She understood winter, and all things considered this wasn't too cold, compared to the single digit temperatures they were experiencing a few days ago.

"The last one wasn't too great, but I'm hoping this one will be better." She nodded her head as they approached the clearing, and blinked at the establishment that had been erected since she'd last been here. "Oh... That's new. ...Where do you think we should put the beer?"

[Wendy Berber] [Inside the Longhouse]

Just a little hungry. I'll eat something soon. There's alot of f-food out there.

*She winces over top of her smile, shrugging narrow shoulders in response. Shifting awkwardly on stork legs. Wendy uncomfortable despite herself. Hatchet was a creature in possession of an impressive and terrible rage. He didn't put her at ease anymore than Marrick did, and lacked the familiarity to offset his ominous presence. Figures appear at the door of the longhouse and Wendy looks up at Edward and Ethan, hand raised in shy greeting.*

[Broken Hammer] Daniel gets food. Then Daniel goes into the Longhouse. Behind Edward, his lack of breeding all but disappears into the walls. For the Garou, anyway. For the kin, his Rage is something else altogether, out of proportion with the lean, glum-faced, somewhat stoop-shouldered young man.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Other to Longhouse

The card table wasn't very heavy at all, it was just large and awkward to handle. Edward seemed to have a hold of it just fine, which oughtn't be surprising, considering he handled things like monster's jaws and the unimaginable killing devices of Umbral denizens while he was away. Gabriella was left without much to do with her hands, so she slipped them into her pockets and moved alongside her brother as he marched toward the clearing.

There was a building there this year, something that looked like it may as well popped up from a couple centuries ago, and it had Gabbie lifting an eyebrow in interest, but saying nothing. She simply nodded to her brother when he asked for her to keep with him, flashed a small bit of a smile, and went so far as to agree verbally as well. "Of course."

And then they were crossing the threshold along with a handful of other faces she'd never seen before, all of which she'd glanced at curiously. Chicago went through its citizens quickly, didn't it?

[Hatchet] Longhouse
Hatchet doesn't ask anything further of the Glass Walker. He looks over as Edward and Ethan enter, then Daniel. A thin smile appears on his face when he sees his packmate, and he heads over.

"Ribs," he says, and grabs Daniel's shoulder to propel him towards said meat-covered bones of sauce-drenched goodness.

[Ethan Yates] Longhouse
The man does not hover in the doorway, but rather strides into the longhouse and goes not to the first Garou he sees, not to someone who might be able to point him towards the leader of his tribe in this city, but to the twig-like young woman who waves to him. She gets a brief closed-lipped smile, and he does her the benefit of not looking straight at her as he walks.

There is an incredible press of Rage at his back, but he doesn't look over his shoulder or walk any faster than is absolutely necessary.

When he comes upon the dark-haired kinswoman he shucks a hand out of his pocket and extends it in greeting.

"Hi there," he says, his voice a warm baritone with trace elements of what used to be a strong British accent. It still colors his speech, but it does not leap out and tug at one's attention. "I'm Ethan, nice to meet you."

[Keron Bradley] Main Fire
"Spent most of the day with family," which means at the Mission, of course, and is not limited to his dad and grandma, "but went to the Brotherhood in the evening. Couple people told me I should check it out. And I think there's a table there, by that guy. Holy shit, do people here drink a lot or something?"

He's gesturing at a table over by Jeff, which is flanked by kegs and covered with various kinds of wine and liquor. There are also quite a few two liters of pop, for anyone who'd rather go without the alcohol for the evening. "D'you know how to cook? It's the only think I'm any good for other than singin' and talkin', and I didn't bring anything. I should probably help over there."

He'd spent some time helping build the longhouse when he'd heard it was being done, but he hadn't thought to bring anything.

[Wendy Berber] Longhouse

*Wendy Berber certainly didn't dress to impress. Which was unfortunate, as she had a long thin frame that was altogether devoid of curves. Well tailored clothes could do a good deal to help her. However, she had neither the money, desire, nor the confidence to invest in a snappy little suit to make her scarecrow form more substantial. Instead she drowned in a large grey knit sweater that washed out her features and made her look small despite her height. Faded jeans that were a shade too short at the ankle complete the mess that is Boy's mate. Rage tickles at her senses and sets her on edge, her attention on the folks entering the longhouse. Gabbie she recognizes. The rest she does not, nearly jumping in alarm when Ethan extends a hand in greeting.*

Oh! um.. Hi Ethan. I'm W-wendy Berber.

*Her hand is thrown out awkwardly, grasp weak and disgustingly twiggy as she shakes. A quick smile. She glances to Hatchet as he moves off, offering a wave at his back before turning her attention to less terrifying company.*

I don't think I've seen you before. Are you new in town sir?

[Joey] Longhouse
Joey trails quietly behind her brother, standing out only by virtue of the bright red of her coat. Her blonde head is hidden by the black faux fur-lined hood, but those who know her will recognize her. Her gait is not that of a seasoned warrior, but that of an athlete.

Her eyes are down on the snow crunching beneath her old black work boots. It's not as pretty and fascinating and wondrous as it was before. Joey keeps her eyes down because if she looks up she'll see the clearing where she played football with a handful of others, and she'll remember. And even now, weeks after they laid Charlie in the ground, she remembers him with a pang of sadness.

Just before she and Daniel reach the longhouse, Joey stops at one of the smaller fires for a cup of warm cider. She doesn't rush to catch up to the Forseti, but when she gets to the doorway into the longhouse she helped build, Joey looks around. It's warm enough inside that she knocks back the hood of her coat. Hatchet is steering Daniel toward ribs. The corner of Joey's mouth quirks just a little. Her stomach grumbles, and she heads in the direction Hatchet directed Daniel.

[Edward Bellamonte] Longhouse
He sets the table in an out of the way corner easily, and just as Hatchet pays him no mind, he pays no mind to the Fianna. Daniel gets something that might be an attempt at a smile, a nod, and a, "Hi," that does more to convey sympathy than a Hallmark card would. Ethan he doesn't know, Wendy's a stranger and so he gives his sister a raised brow.

"You remember what I taught you? I'll let you pick, blackjack or poker."

To start with, anyway. It may well change over the course of . . . well, however long they spend here.

[Ethan Yates] Longhouse
"I am," he confesses. "Just moved here from New York a few weeks ago. Saw an advert for the bonfire at the Brotherhood last I was there, thought I'd come check it out."

There is not much of a height discrepancy between the pregnant woman and the kinsman; maybe an inch or two. If he's put off by this, he has the manners not to act like it. His eyes remain on Wendy's face, doing her the courtesy of glancing away every so often so her nerves aren't further frayed.

Whereas Wendy looks slapped together, Ethan appears to have put some time into his appearance. His boots are not scuffed, his jeans are clean and free from frays and fit his lower half; his peacoat, while not new, is also not covered in stains and falling apart at the seams. His skin is clean and clear. His eyes and hair shine with health. That might make what he says next seem a bit incongruous.

"Are there any Gnawers here tonight, do you know?"

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire to Cooking Fires

"Heheh. Come on, Keron. They're monsters. They regenerate pounds of flesh hourly, how fast do you think they burn through booze, huh?"

He gestured toward the tables at the fires where all the roasting and cooking was being done, with concessions laid out and lined up, lighter things covered with lids and weighed down so that the wind gusts didn't whip them up and tear them away from the scene. They'd already lost two bags of chips before deciding to just put those away and go with salads instead. Drew adjusted her hold on the big case of beer once more and started to march over to the cooking fires.

She flashed a grin at St. Jenny here, plopped her case down next to many others, and tore the top open so that she could access the contents and get herself a beer. She'd offer one to Keron, and hand him one if he accepted. Either way, she would twist hers open (because she bought the twist-tops, bottle openers were too big of a pain in the ass to pass around and often wound up missing) and take a swig before shivering and glancing about.

"Huh, looks like everyone's going inside."

[Broken Hammer] Daniel's not the only glum Sentinel tonight. All of them present -- all of them remaining -- seem quite determined not to enjoy themselves. The Forseti takes ribs as directed. He chews on them silently. He looks around with his dark, sharp eyes, and then -- well; then, perhaps more for his packmates' sake than for his own, he nudges both Joey and Hatchet.

"In the Sept I was born in," he says, "Winter's Solstice was a time both to contemplate endings and a time to cast them off. It's about... death, and the promise of renewal that comes in spring. We celebrate it. By drinking and fighting." A faint smile. "A lot.

"You guys want to start a drinking contest? And maybe some wrestling?"

[Broken Hammer] (right, that was in the longhouse.)

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Longhouse

Gabriella trailed along after her brother as though she was his shadow, eyes slipping from one face to the other, examining, trying to place in memory. She did not know Daniel, his drawn features were new to her, but he was with Hatchet, and Hatchet she knew well. ...Or, more to the point, she knew him well once upon a time ago. At least she'd thought she had. There was a tall and rather attractive man speaking with a taller and rather scrawny Kinfolk she recognized vaguely. Joey was a face without much of a name to her, though that face looked distressed. She must have been a packmate of this Lights Out guy that Edward told her had died.

She shivered a little, adjusting to the difference in temperature between outdoors and the lodge, which was doing a fine job of keeping heat from the center fire inside, and hovered near the playing table with her brother.

"Hm. Poker, I suppose."

[Hatchet] Longhouse
Joey is in mourning, a grieving process that is going on its second week. In mortal terms that is no time at all to get over the death of a friend, nor even enough time to begin to come to terms with it. They are not, however, mortal. They said goodbye to him some time ago, put him in the earth and told stories and howled farewell and dropped a slab of broken concrete on top of his grave with his name and who he was carved into it. Since then, Hatchet's hardly talked about him, or his death, or his deeds.

Daniel was there when Charlie died. Hatchet and Joey were not. Echo was not. And if anything still weighs on the Philodox's mind concerning the end of another Theurge's life, that is it.

He is going into the ribs with apparent gusto, heaping them onto a plate until he has enough food for three people. Which is, in the end, how many it turns out to be for, because he holds the plate close to Joey and Daniel to share what is on it. He's nudged. He lifts his eyebrows at the Forseti, mouth full but beard untouched by sauce -- so far -- and gives him a curious look.

"Daniel," he says firmly when the Fenrir finishes, "I take the very question of whether or not I would like to start a drinking contest as an insult to me and all Fianna. On behalf of my own glory, and in the name of my entire tribe, I accept," he finishes ominously, shoving the plate of ribs at Joey and licking his fingers.

[Wendy Berber] Longhouse

New York huh? I was in New york for a little while. Before I came here. Battery P-Park is really dangerous at n-night. *Ethan is doing her the courtesy of not staring at her like she's a circus freak, and Wendy is showing her appreciation by not twitching like a neurotic whippet. She folds her hands in front of her, glancing about the longhouse as she tries to keep track of everyone at once. Refocussing on Ethan and shaking her head with a wince.*

Not that I know of I'm af-fraid. My mate is packed with the b-bonegnawer elder. Doodle. But Doodle is p-probably at the bawn with Boy. P-parties aren't really his sorta thing, I don't think.

*Someone begins setting up a small... poker table? And Wendy's eyes light up. Oh please let there be boardgames or cards or something. She looks to Ethan before gesturing to the card table behind him.*

Th-Think thats for cards?

[Keron Bradley] Cooking Fires
"It's crazy cold out here. Can't say I blame them," he answers with a smirk as he takes the offered beer and gets to work with the food. "I'll put in some time out here and then offer to spell anyone who wants or needs a break. You can go in if you want - I don't know anyone other than you, anyway."

Though he hasn't been inside yet, and thus can't say that for sure - he just needs to feel helpful before he relaxes into partying, is all. The more he helps now, the less he'll feel guilty if and when he slips off with someone later - because that will happen. It (almost) always does.

[Joey] Longhouse

Joey tilts her head at Daniel, at his suggestion that, essentially, it's time to move on, to prepare for the spring and the advent of new life and nature.

With drinking. And wrestling.

Joey is still mourning the loss of her friend. She has not, however, let it hinder her in her duties. There are dark bruises beneath her eyes, lines carving their way into her face that weren't there before two weeks ago, but when she goes on patrol, she fights what she finds with everything she has. She guards The Brotherhood with fierce determination. She's just quieter about it, and she doesn't smile as often.

She perks up a bit when Hatchet accepts Daniel's challenge. Reaching out for a rib, she looks from her alpha to her brother and back again.

"Can anyone get in on this action?" she asks, somewhat hopefully.

[Ethan Yates] Longhouse
The young woman's eyes light up, and when she gestures, Ethan turns to survey what it is she's talking about. His eyes find the card table and the pair of siblings manning it, and he watches for several seconds as Wendy asks her question. When he turns back around, there's a smile in his eyes.

A scant distance from the two Kinfolk there's talk of the meaning of the winter solstice and the possibility of a drinking game. Ethan briefly glances towards the packed Garou, then looks back to Wendy.

"Might be," he says. "You play?"

[Edward Bellamonte] Longhouse
"We'll go hold 'em," he says with a smirk, and pulls a deck out of his pocket to start shuffling - the table he's brought is big enough for four comfortably, or six to eight if people want to get friendly. He notices Wendy eying the table and gives her that attempt at a smile - it's not much, but it's enough to be able to tell that his smiles are usually warm and friendly.

"Yes, it's for cards," he says. "You want to play?"

[Drew Roscoe] Cooking Fires back to Main Fire

"Oh, it's not that bad," Drew insisted with a grin that looked just a touch too sharp at the corners. Just a short while ago she'd toughed out temperatures only a handful of degrees higher than this inside of a shed, with nothing to keep warm with but a shirt, panties, and another kinfolk to huddle up with. On top of that, in a few very short days (she wasn't sure exactly when yet, but soon) she'd be tasting a whole new flavor of cold as fuck.

But Keron wanted to be helpful, wanted her to go have fun. So she grinned and clapped him on the shoulder with a nod, sucking back another chug from her beer bottle before nodding, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and turning to go hover by the main fire for a bit to warm up, calling over her shoulder as she went. "Alright, I'll grab you later." But certainly not to sneak off into any bushes. It was far too cold for nonsense like that.

[Broken Hammer] Longhouse
"That's the point," Daniel replies to Joey. And then, mock-thunderous: "More glory for more foes defeated. Are you wrestling or drinking?"

[Joey] Longhouse
Joey's mouth cracks in a small smile. "Duh.

"Both!" she shouts, waving her rib above her head.

[Wendy Berber] Longhouse

*Ethan asks a question around the same time edward invites her over to play with them, Gnawer's query answered as Wendy blurts.*

Oh My goodness yes please If I may Sir!

*Most polite squee ever. Wendy all but claps her hands. She likes all the strategy and counting involved in cards. Oh yes, rest assured. The toothpick might not be much to look at, but she could play the hell out of some cards. Though from the rare look of barely restrained delight on pointed features, she'd need some work on her poker face. A look of shy inclusion to Ethan, before the nerd strides towards the table with a blush.*

Heh. Um. I mean. Yes please. Thank you. Um.. I'm W-Wendy. This is Ethan.

[Broken Hammer] Longhouse
"Okay, you can't do both -- " he begins. Halts. And then, unexpectedly, grins. "Well. Wait. Let's do this. First we drink. Then we wrestle. While drunk.

"Rhya?" To Hatchet. "You want to announce it?"

[Hatchet] Longhouse
The next thing those in the Longhouse -- and some outside of it -- know, there's a sudden, sharp clap of two broad hands in the air, followed by a booming baritone voice.

"MY PEOPLE! THE TIME FOR TALK IS DONE! THE TIME FOR ACTION IS NIGH!" It's overblown. He hams it up, throwing his arms out, his face a mask of faux fury that is, nonetheless, somewhat uncomfortable to witness since it is so very close to real wrath from a Garou with that much rage. "TONIGHT WE CELEBRATE DEATH AND CONTEMPLATE RENEWAL." A beat. "Or the other way around! I don't fucking know! WE'RE DRINKING NOW."

His hands drop. One of them, at least. The other he plants firmly on Daniel's arm, shoving him to one side in a show of affectionate brotherly abuse.

[Jeff Pyeon] Main Fire
Jeff is just hanging out. He's dressed tastefully, but casually, and his shoes? Well, he has some really great shoes. And thankfully, it's cold enough, and been cold enough, that there's not a lot of mud to mess them up. Drew approaches and he smiles, wide and reasonably friendly, though it lacks the warmth of Keron's. Jeff is . . .

Well, Jeff keeps his distance. He's a bit on the short side for the average American male, but then, to look at him? He's not really the average American male, though when he speaks, his accent would say otherwise.

"Hi, I'm Jeff Pyeon. Glass Walker. Nice to meet you."

[Ethan Yates] Longhouse
Wendy nearly explodes with joy, and the Gnawer's lips split into a grin as a quiet strain of laughter leaves his throat. It smoothes out and quiets down when Wendy herself does, and as she introduces the pair of them, Ethan starts to unbutton his peacoat, strong fingers popping the buttons through their holes without visual assistance.

"Nice to--"

MY PEOPLE!

Maybe it's the Rage, or the volume of the man's voice, or the fact that he conducts himself in a manner befitting a Garou of some rank within the Nation, but the kinsman turns away from the card table to listen to the bellowing man--a Fenrir, perhaps; he has the look and demeanor of a Fenrir, as do the two he's standing with--as he makes his proclamation.

Peacoat is bisected, the halves pushed out of the way as Ethan slides his hands into his pockets, and though the Rage is powerful in this one, as it is in the brother he shoves, the kinsman whose breeding will not grab anyone's attention for any reason other than its nonexistence does not shrink away or flinch or try to make himself appear smaller so as to not be noticed. He stands, and listens, and when the announcement is over, he gives the card table a moment's consideration.

"Well, hell, who can say 'no' to that?" he asks no one.

[Wendy Berber] Longhouse - poker table

*Wendy nearly trips over the table as there is a thunderclap inside the longhouse, and an announcement hollered like a battlecry. A high squeak swallowed into coughing as she folds an excess of long limb into a seat awkwardly. Covering her mouth as she makes to regain her composure.*

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire

There was a solitary figure at the cottage-sized blaze, features and shape thrown into sharp relief by the rage of flames that danced and threw light upon the entire clearing, melting away the snow nearby so that the green-brown grass underfoot surfaced to taste air once more. Drew strolled up with the confidence of someone that knew how to operate in social situations, smiling brightly at the man who looked down at her, smiled, and greeted with a name and tribe attached.

She supposed that's what she was supposed to be doing, so she followed suit. Her smile stayed on her face, even if it wasn't always in the form of curled mouth corners and pretty flashing teeth. It danced in her eyes just like the firelight did, and she lifted her beer in greeting to him.

"Well hello Jeff Pyeon, I'm Drew. Get of Fenris Kinfolk. Pretty good to meet you too."

Someone roars inside the longhouse, something about celebrating beer and drinking death, from what she made of it. Her nose wrinkled some, and she decided she'd hang out outside for a little bit, give them time to drink death and get that out of the way so she wouldn't have to witness it. Her beer returned to her lips, she tipped it back and took another swig, then followed up with what Jeff might find to be a funny question.

"What's a Glass Walker, Jeff?"

[Echo Quinn] There's a sudden cacophony of noise across the totemlink -- that could only mean one thing, Echo Quinn was in the area, or at the very least, awake. Where are my bitches at, I come with beer and I come with an awesome amount of me.

[Joey] Longhouse
Daniel starts to say Joey can't drink and wrestle. Her reply is a downward tip of her chin and an upward arch of one darkish brow. He amends, and Joey finishes off her rib before looking for a place to dispose of it.

Her back is turned when Hatchet's voice booms within the longhouse. His voice, the pitch, the false rage, makes the building suddenly seem much smaller than it really is. Joey starts and turns. A corner of her mouth lifts when Hatchet shoves Daniel.

She doesn't wait for instructions, if any were even to be given. She searches for a cooler, a jug, a container of some kind that's being used to hold alcohol. She finds what she's looking for in a trio of kegs set up just beyond the fire pit in the center of the longhouse. She unzips her coat and tosses it onto a bench, revealing a plain black sweatshirt. She's wearing black and lilac arm warmers that, with the sleeves of her sweatshirt down, look like just another pair of fingerless gloves.

"Guys! Over here!" she calls. Her voice doesn't carry nearly so well as Hatchet's, but it doesn't need to. Her brief smile is gone, but there's a lightness about her, a sense of excitement. She flags down a kinfolk and tells her to bring them a lot of mugs. The Rotagar straddles a bench, and waits for the others to assemble around her.

[Hatchet] Hatchet's voice, through their bond, is just as booming as it was a moment ago in the longhouse. ECHO. LONGHOUSE. DRINKING CONTEST. MOVE YOUR SKINNY ASS.

[Edward Bellamonte] Longhouse
Edward, ever the gentleman, stands when Wendy trips and offers her assistance into a comfortable seat, then gives his introduction.

"Edward 'Silver Jester' Bellamonte, Fostern Silver Fang Ragabash, and this is my sister, Gabrilla," he says, then gives Ethan a smile. "To poker, or to drinking, or both?" A pretty flask, quite possibly gold, is pulled from an inside pocket of his peacoat, which hasn't yet been set aside in deference to the already rising heat in the longhouse. "Because I plan on that last. You in? And nice to meet you, Wendy."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Longhouse, Card Table

Gabriella was doing a rather fine job of being a wallflower, albeit a pretty and irrevocably well bred one. She had taken up a seat at the card table beside her brother, removed her coat and folded it over the back of the chair she was occupying, revealing a pale yellow-and-gray sweater with a cowl neck that scooped low enough to cause scandal if there were herds of old, clucking women occupying the longhouse instead of Garou and Kin that simply didn't give a damn.

Hatchet and his posse were gathering a crowd after all of their yelling about death and drinking and renewal. Gabbie watched him for a few seconds longer than she probably ought to before she heard her name and pulled her attention back to the table. Wendy, the stork-like Kinfolk that she remembered vaguely and Ethan the handsome young man that she'd never even seen before, had joined the table, and Edward was introducing himself and her as well.

Gabriella put on her best polite 'nice to meet you' smile and nodded at both, but for now seemed content to hold her tongue, as she had nothing compelling to say.

[Ezra Turk] A glass walker...

*Gravels a low voice behind a Fenrir kin.*

Is a techno-savy monkey playing dress up in a wolfskin.

*There he is in all his smirking glory, black hair mimicking the general shape of the Bonfire. He lifts a bottle of beer to his lips, eyes on the entrance to the longhouse.*

Nice to see you again, precious. Happy Belated Birthday. MmmMMM?

[Ezra Turk] [ahem. at mainfire]

[Broken Hammer] Longhouse, Drinking Contest
Daniel stumbles sideways with the shove, but only for half a step. Then his usual lightfooted grace kicks in, and he simply takes a seat next to Joey, grabs a mug, and looks around for alcohol.

"I propose these rules: each round, we all down a drink of approximately equivalent alcoholic value. The first one to slam it down -- this does favor shot-takers -- gets to then propose a task or feat that everyone must then perform. Anyone who fails, or if no one fails, anyone who does most poorly," which is to say, sucks, "is eliminated, and then the next round progresses.

"That sound fair?"

[Jeff Pyeon] Main Fire
"A Glass Walker," he says, at the same time Ezra speaks up, then pauses to listen with a raised eyebrow. Then, when that's done, he continues with an amused smirk. "Well. I wouldn't necessarily say it that way, but I've heard similar, and worse."

He has a red plastic cup in hand and, for the moment at least, it just smells like pop - he'd come alone and will likely be heading home alone, so drinking doesn't seem like the best of ideas.

"Regardless, I'm just a monkey with a credit card, and I don't play dress up. Much."

[Echo Quinn] Oh yay, I'm just in time for the good stuff.

There she is, by the by, appearing over the crest of the hill, or the rise, or just appearing like a tall skinny streak of Glass Walker cool. Echo Quinn was still dressed in her flight uniform, though she'd pulled down the overalls to her waist and tied the sleeves around it, leaving her flat belly on display, the shirt she wore beneath it bear reaching to cover her small breasts. There was a hoodie half-zipped over this, and the pixie-cut hair was spiked upward in a mohawk, the tips (tonight, at least) frosted a very vibrant shade of red so that she looked something like a pretty girl with a rooster's frill atop her head.

"Check this out, I come bearing foamy beverages and just that extra dash of cool that was missing beforehand."

End Transmission announced, balancing what looked to be an impressive amount amount of beer on her shoulder.

[Joey] [Please tag your posts with the following handy dandy color-coded chart:

Longhouse
Main Fire
Cooking Fires
Other

Food is being made around those smaller cooking fires and can be taken into the long house for eats. There are benches inside for sitting.]

[Echo Quinn] [oh yeah. Echo -> Longhouse]

[Hatchet] Longhouse, aka The Boozery
"Fabulous!" Hatchet agrees, and does not bother to sit. He has too much energy. He has too much rage. He has too much, period.

When Echo walks in, he walks over to her, grabbing her sleeve and half-hauling her over to the bench where Daniel and Joey are sitting down. "Echo. C'mon. S'drinking time."

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire

Drew was awaiting a response on exactly what a Glass Walker was (she assumed it was a tribe, but she'd never really heard of this one before) when a voice that sounded like gravel being ground up in a burlap sack sounded behind her. She startled (could she not go to one of these things without having the wits scared out of her?) and twisted to look back at the source of the voice, though she already knew who it was.

Fucking Ezra Turk.

Her eyes narrowed a little as she scrutinized him, jaw setting into something displeased and determined, and she curled her fingers a little more securely about the neck of her beer bottle before glancing to Jeff near the tail end of his retort to what a Glass Walker was. Techno-savvy with a credit card. Okay, okay, so... computer programmers and business men? She licked her lips, took another swig of her beer, then spoke, though her words were a response to Ezra rather than a question about Glass Walkers for clarification to Jeff.

"And how the hell did you find out when my birthday was, creepazoid?"

[Broken Hammer] (btw, if anyone needs to know what a longhouse actually looks like inside:

http://www.hurstwic.org/history/articles/daily_living/text/longhouse.htm

that's a good reference. the 'benches' can (and do, if you're actually living in one) also double as narrow beds.)

[Wendy Berber] Poker Table

*Oh holy crap onna crap. Silverfangs?! She was playing Poker with Silverfangs. What if they actually bet? Oh holy crap was that a gold Flask?! Wendy pales a little, looking from Ethan to Edwin and Gabbie, and back, shyly venturing a question as she nods thanks Edward for helping her into her seat.*

Um.. will... Will we be b-betting sir?

*A thin finger gnawed worriedly at the prospect.*

[Wendy Berber] {ahem. ETHAN. friggin E' names]

[Broken Hammer] (oh and! some slapdash drinking game rules:

- Roll Dexterity per drink vs diff 6 (mug o' beer), 5 (glass o' wine) or 4 (shot o' something). Highest roll downs it first.
- Roll Stamina to "soak" every drink. "Damage" starts at 3, goes up by 1 per drink. As you take "damage" from being drunk, you lose dice accordingly.
- Whoever wins the dex contest gets to set the feat (and dice rules, if applicable))

[Ethan Yates] Longhouse
The man who is not easily identified as anything, be it Kinfolk or Garou, Shadow Lord or Silent Strider or Glass Walker or something else entirely, waits until the Garou have made their way over to one side of the longhouse before he answers the question posed to him.

"I play better when I've got a bit of liquid courage in me," he says.

With that, he walks over to where the Garou have gathered and addresses the one who'd been doing the yelling. One has to wonder if he'd be this bold on the full. He's got the paleness of Luna's face on his side.

"That an open invitation," he asks, "or is this a member's only affair?"

[Hatchet] [...Can we use RP? *G*]

[Echo Quinn] Longhouse

"Whoa, easy there tiger, there's plenty of me to go around," the girl protested lamely as she's tugged down somewhere between Daniel and Joey. She gallantly relieves herself of her burden and yanks three beer cans out of the pack she'd trudged up the hill with and slams them down before herself.

Then some unknown dude is questioning if it's an open invitation and my-oh-me, isn't he a little side of mother-may-I? Echo tosses Ethan a beercan. "Sit yourself down, hotpants."

[Broken Hammer] (whatever! *dies* i don't care, i'm going home! back in a while, guys!)

[Ezra Turk] Main fire

Why you told me Frauline. Devil's in the details..mm?

*At 5'10 and around 170lbs, Ezra is not one to stand out in a crowd. Black eyes, black hair. Broad shoulders on a lean frame. His features are vulpine and sly, his eyes intense and glinting with manic energy. His hair waves uncontrolled atop his head, and his features include a prominent nose, trim goatee and thick, darkly arched eyebrows. There's something of unhinged malice about Ezra Turk, coupled with unshakable confidence and sinister charm. His voice a low rasp, as though the man had swallowed glass and was too stubborn to cough it up. Black eyes fall on Jeff for too long a stretch, before Ezra raises to his feet, fingers trailing over Drew's shoulder before extending to the glasswalker.*

Ezra Turk.

*He levels a cheshire smile, before taking a long drink of his beer.*

[Hatchet] Drinking Contest
"Hardly," he argues with the Walker, tossing her towards her other packmates. "You weigh a buck nothin' and if I cut you in half nobody would want either piece. "Now," he says, looking around, "who has scotch?"

Ethan walks over, and Hatchet looks at him for a moment before answering. "Do you have vodka?"

[Joey] The Boozery
Joey slides to the edge of the bench and drags a keg forward, follows it with a cooler and arranges everything as best she can in front of the bench. Hatchet doesn't sit, but his packmates do. Joey fills a mug, offers one to Hatchet, then Daniel, then fills a mug for herself. She settles herself on the bench beside Echo, close enough that her shoulder brushes the Fostern's.

"Ready?" she asks.

[Ethan Yates] The Boozery
The man easily catches the hefted beer can with the assistance of both hands, glancing down at it briefly before wiping off the mouth of the can. There's a question after a moment's consideration, a moment that passes by without an aversion of gaze or a sense that he's cowed by the blond man's Rage. He may very well be. If he is he's doing a passable job of acting composed.

Does he have vodka.

The nameless no one's lips threaten to tug into a smile, but nothing comes of it. Holding the beer in his left hand, he dips into an inside pocket with his right and pulls out a small metal flask, giving it a sloshing shake.

"Gin," he says.

[Echo Quinn] The Den of Drink and Debauchery

"That," the pretty Walker retorts back with, "is a huge serving of horse poop, everyone wants my jelly."

Ready, Joey asks, and in reply Echo pops the tab on her first beer can and toasts it against her fellow No Moon's. "Let's show them how Ragabash do this."

[Drinkin'! Dexterity]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Edward Bellamonte] Poker Table
"Depends. You have chocolate or strawberry Twizzlers on you?"

One thing can be said for Edward - he can read people reasonably well, and even if he couldn't, he could look at Wendy and tell that she doesn't have much money to spend. Like he hadn't taken the kid at the club's car or (all of his) money, he wouldn't clean her out. Ethan decides to go drinking, and Ed says, "Have fun," then starts shuffling in earnest.

"Hold 'em good with you, Wendy?"

Assuming she agrees, he's dealing before he takes a drink.

[Hatchet] Longhouse
He ignores the mug of beer Joey pours, watching Ethan, then lifts one eyebrow in an exaggerated expression of deep consideration. Then: a slow, heavy nod. "That'll do," he says, and goes to grab a sleeve of plastic cups that, in lieu of shot glasses, shall have mouthfuls of gin poured into them a bit at a time for slamming back.

It means he's going for the easier liquor. On the other hand, no one in Chicago has ever seen Hatchet drink beer from a can.

Hatchet pours his shot, smirks at Echo, and tosses it back.

[Shot +1]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 4)

[Joey] De Boozery
Joey glances at her sister from the corner of her eye, a corner of her mouth lifting slightly.

As soon as she hears the pop of the tab, Joey lifts her mug.

[Glug glug!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Joey] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 2, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

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

[Echo Quinn] [Stamina -- hurr, how drunk faced did that make me already?]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 5, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Jeff Pyeon] Main Fire
"Jeff Pyeon," he says, offering his hand for a shake as he would in a business meeting or at a consult; he is well dressed, he is cool, he is not-quite-distant. "Glass Walker. Kin, to be exact."

He hasn't been to a lot of this kind of party - in fact, he can count on one hand the True he's met face to face. Or could, before he moved to Chicago. Face time between him and the furry cousins has been nearly nil, and, though he'd liked it that way, it doesn't seem to be how things are done here.

"Nice to meet you."

[Hatchet] Daniel
[Drink +1 - Beer]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Hatchet] Daniel
[Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Wendy Berber] poker

*Wendy's eyes grow wide. How did he- maybe he could smell them. Her hand dips into her satchel and pulls out an already opened package of red twizzlers with a look of amazement to Edward. These only thing that seemed to stay in her stomach lately long enough to be digested. *

Wh-whoah. Um.. yeah. Holdem is fine. Thank you.

*A blink, and she looks around, glancing after Ethan as he gets up, only to set her twizzlers down in his now empty place.*

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire

Drew muttered something utterly incoherent under her breath in regards to devils and details and iron-wrought crowbars, but muffled most of it with the mouth of her beer bottle and tipped her head back along with the bottle so she could finish her drink and have nothing but an empty glass bottle to dangle between her fingers (and possibly smash on someone's face if the need arose).

Since she'd last seen Ezra she's had a chance to collect herself, to sort through her thoughts and decide to remain very cautious of this Ezra guy. His arriving here confirmed what she was half-hoping for, though, that he wasn't one of the Bad Guys. Not with capital letters, at least. Still, his being on this side of the warlines didn't make him automatically climb to the top of her 'people I like' list.

His fingers danced on her shoulder for a moment before diving forward through the air to grasp Jeff's hand, and Drew rolled her shoulder irritably in a shrug to chase the touch away.

Her body language said don't touch me, but her mouth was pressed closed and quiet for now.

[Ethan Yates] The Boozery
That'll do.

The man leaves the flask in the Philodox's capable hands, holding onto the beer without opening it and taking a cup of gin when it's handed to him. When the Ragabashes start on their beers, he tosses back his shot; it's been a while for him, apparently, for it takes him two goes to get the entire shot back, and he gives his head a sharp shake as the alcohol stings his innards. There is no vocal complaint, however. He just takes it.

[AUTOFAIL]

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Longhouse, Card Table
Edward started to shuffle away after tucking his flask back into his jacket, then toss out the cards to deal them. Gabriella waited until all of her cards had been dealt before straightening them into a pile, picking them up, and arranging them as she pleased.

Wendy had tossed down licorice on the table, and Gabriella surveyed this for a moment before turning around, reaching into the pocket of the coat she had slung over the back of her chair, and pulling out an unopened package of Starbursts, which she slid out into the center of the table beside the Twizzlers.

If Wendy glanced up, she'd get a small smile that curved only half of Gabriella's mouth up before the Silver Fang Kinfolk dropped her attention to the cards in her hand.

[Hatchet] Longhouse
Hatchet's shot of gin is down so fast his packmates have just started chugging their beers when he's done. He smirks as the newcomer, the kinsman, almost misses his own mouth. Looking around to confirm his win, he lifts his finger to set the feat: "Everyone... stand on your heads."

[Dex + Athletics! Don't forget your damage penalties!]

[Hatchet] Daniel
[Dex + Athletics, -1 (Health)]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Echo Quinn] [Dex + Athletics -1 drunky]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 6, 6 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Ezra Turk] Main fire

Glasswalker mmm? My condolences for your loss.

*Jests the Theurge with a smirk. Ezra's eyes slash to the side, resting on Drew as she mutters darkly. Grin growing wider, more pointed. A slow "you know better" shake of his head as he hunkers down beside Jeff. His gaze remaining on Drew though he speaks to the GW kin, rasping.*

What is your profession, Jeff Pyeon?

[Joey] [dex + ath - 1 (wound), diff - 2]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 10 (Success x 3 at target 4)

[Echo Quinn] Echo smacks the table with her palms, and clambers to her feet, she doesn't wobble but shows a great amount of fixed concentration before flipping herself over and balancing upside down. "You're just doing this to take funny pictures, I'm on to you."

[Keron Bradley] Main Fire
"Interior designer," he says after his hand's withdrawn and a sip of his pop taken - it's Mountain Dew or similar, for those with the noses to be able to tell such things. "Mostly corporate or commercial, occasionally residential if the money's right."

The bit about his Tribe gets a smirk, and a shrug. "We are what we are, I guess. Isn't so bad, really, being a Glass Walker."

[Keron Bradley] ((Err . . . *posts that from the right character, with the right color tag*))

[Jeff Pyeon] Main Fire
"Interior designer," he says after his hand's withdrawn and a sip of his pop taken - it's Mountain Dew or similar, for those with the noses to be able to tell such things. "Mostly corporate or commercial, occasionally residential if the money's right."

The bit about his Tribe gets a smirk, and a shrug. "We are what we are, I guess. Isn't so bad, really, being a Glass Walker."

[Hatchet] Longhouse - Drinking Contest
The Philodox is not shy about laughing as two Fenrir, a Walker, and a hot kinsman without a drop of decent blood in his veins all go about their attempts to stand on their heads. Not surprisingly, though Echo and Daniel put on good efforts, Joey is the one who is upside-down with her feet straight in the air despite the effect of the mug of beer on her vision.

Ethan, however, just falls right over. And Hatchet laughs harder.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Echo, I don't even have a camera."

He does. It's on the cellphone that Jenny got him that he has used twice since it arrived at his bedroom. He does not realize that it has a camera. He would not be terribly impressed even if he did know. He looks at Ethan as one by one the Garou drop back down and right themselves. "You leaving the gin?" he asks, eyebrows up, since it goes without saying that the kinsman is disqualified.

[Joey] De Boozery
Unlike most Garou, Joey's physique was not honed by rigorous training for battle. She's an athlete. From the moment she could stand on her own and hold a ball, she's been playing sports. She's a natural.

Echo plants her hands and flips herself up. Joey is right behind her, figuratively speaking. There's some grace to the younger girl's movements, but mostly it's all power. Her arms don't shake when they find themselves supporting the weight of the rest of her.

Joey holds the pose for about forty-five seconds before dropping her feet back to the ground. Immediately, she slides the mug aside and grabs for a can of beer and plants her butt on the bench. A shake of her head rights her blonde bangs across her forehead. And she looks on expectantly.

"C'mon, let's go!" she says, showing more enthusiasm than she has in weeks. It may have something to do with the alcohol. Or it may have something to do with the distraction of the game.

[Joey] [Please tag your posts with the following handy dandy color-coded chart:

Longhouse
Main Fire
Cooking Fires
Other

Food is being made around those smaller cooking fires and can be taken into the long house for eats. There are benches inside for sitting.]

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
Ezra took up a habit of his that Drew was starting to think was about as permanent a feature as his impossible-to-tame hair. But then, hair could be shaved off and staring eyeballs could be plucked out, right? Drew glared right back at him, but paused to blink and glance up when Jeff said he was an interior designer. This was precisely the same look of questioning that he probably got every time he revealed his career choice. That uncertain 'for real?' one over.

But Ezra's eyes refused to stop boring into her, and Drew couldn't help but rise to the challenge and glare right back. A few seconds passed, and she decided she didn't have nearly enough booze in her system for this. So she excused herself with a muttered-- "Who wants a beer?" and, with orders or dismissals at her back, she headed away for a moment to grab herself some more booze.

[Ethan Yates] The Boozery
The kinsman doesn't last two seconds against the Garou. As he stands back up and dusts himself off, he picks up his beer and gives it a moment's consideration before the first smile comes across his lips. He leaving the gin?

"Along with what's left of my pride," he says, setting the beer down on the nearby bench with a muffled hiccup.

[Hatchet] Longhouse
"Oh, just because you're out doesn't mean you can't stick around and drink." A beat. "And watch." Another beat. "And laugh."

Hatchet grins. "All it means is you don't have to do what I tell you when I win every. Single. Time." He shrugs, and pours more gin into his cup, looking at his packmates. "Ready?"

[Shot +2]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 9 (Success x 2 at target 4)

[Hatchet] Daniel
[Drink +2: Dex -1 (uggh)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 3, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[Joey] [beer +2, dex -1]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 3 (Failure at target 6)

[Echo Quinn] [Drink +2 -1 drunky]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 4, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Hatchet] [Soak vs. 4B]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Hatchet] Daniel
[Soak vs. 4B]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 2, 4 (Failure at target 6)

[Edward Bellamonte] Poker Table
Two cards to each player, round of betting - Edward comes up with gummy worms in a bulk food store bag - two cards burned. Then comes the flop, and it's time for another round of betting.

The flop is ten of hearts, nine of spades and five of hearts.

[Joey] [Soak vs. 4B]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 5, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Ethan Yates] The Boozery
The Philodox grins, and the kinsman pushes his tongue into the back of one unseen incisor, a pensive expression coming across his face as he meets the other man's gaze for a moment. It's an expression that looks at home on his features; there's an intelligence in his eyes that speaks of usefulness beyond the donation of genes.

"Twist my arm," he says, and picks the beer back up, resting his weight on one hip as he stands back to watch the packmates booze themselves into oblivion.

[Echo Quinn] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 1, 2 (Botch x 2 at target 6)

[Ezra Turk] Main Fiah

*An interior designer. He manages not to look as disgusted as he felt. Trust a glasswalker kin to choose so useless a profession as "styling" the nation. But perhaps it made decent coin. A slow shake of his head, Ezra's fingers begin to jab a rhythm against the log he'd taken up a seat on. Rat. tat-tat-tat-tat. Rat. Tat-tat-tat-tat. Drew gets up, and his eyes follow her a moment, before he turns his attention to Jeff.*

Interesting.

*Ezra did not have rage that crawled up your spine and made you wary. His threat was more insidious, his smile too predatory to be anything but insincere. He seems content to nurse his beer for awhile. Finally rasping.*

Does the connotation bother you Jeff?

[Lonna Larson] Entry and Main Fire!

Eventually, she does show up.

Eventually, she does manage to make her car cooperate and get on off to the bonfire. The blonde bundled up, expecting the worst of the weather and finding it to actually be tolerable. The blonde is content with this, and parks.

She heads to the main fire, as that she doesn't really waste time finding drew and latching on.

[Wendy Berber] Poker

*The bookworm offers Gabbie a timid curve of her lips, before Edward is dealing cards and dragging out gummy worms. She smiles brighter yet. Poker for candy, with silverfangs. No one was going to believe her. EVER. She considers her cards, screwing her face up in disapproval. Bubkis. But then... it was only candy. She pushes a twizzler into the pot, as it were.*

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
Lonna would find Drew lingering at the edges of the main fire, a good ten feet or so away from Ezra and Jeff, watching them like she was weighing the pros and cons of going back over. She had two beer bottles in her hands, one open and pressed to her lips, the other dangling from the fingertips of her left hand. She'd pulled off cute Midwestern girl with the sort of flair that one expected from her, dressed in a red sweater with a fluffy white vest overtop for insulation, a white scarf and white earmuffs, hair in a ponytail, and sturdy jeans tucked into similarly sturdy brown hiking boots.

Her cheeks and nose were rosy, but otherwise she seemed unbothered by the chill. After all, life was about to get a lot colder for her real soon. The Get of Fenris Kinswoman glanced over to Lonna when she came up by her side, and immediately she held out the unopend bottle of Budweiser to her, speaking in a voice that sounded... braced more than anything else, though at least a touch of Drew-brand humor and cheer could still be found underneath. She was irritated on a shallow level, but not bothered deeply.

"Here, you're probably gonna need this."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Poker
Gabriella had picked up on something that wasn't the most flattering for her, but seemed to be serving her well these days, and that was having a bland expression by default. She looked at her cards, nipped her lip thoughtfully, and tossed a single lemon Starburst into the pot after ripping one end open.

Her eyes shifted expectantly to Edward, and light colored brows lifted upward in a small flick of expectancy and humor-laced younger sibling style impatience.

Hurry up, Eddie, before we turn to dust.

[Jeff Pyeon] Main Fire
Jeff's used to people looking down on his profession. He's used to people thinking he's gay because of that, his tasteful wardrobe and kick ass shoe collection. He honestly doesn't care any more.

"It pays my bills and a lot more," he says with a shrug, amused, and a tone that says look down on me if you want, but you'll be happy for it when I'm bailing your ass out of some shit. "And there're nice clothes and pretty people. I'm not complaining."

He keeps an eye on Drew, who seems like a nice enough girl (if young), and his eyes drift back to Ezra when he sees that Drew's found a friend.

[Echo Quinn] Al's House of Beer

Echo takes her time with her next beer, as a matter of fact she takes so long over it that by the time she's done, she's feeling more than a touch inebriated. Not that this is shocking to anyone who has seen the girl, she was barely 100 pounds if she was that, and there was absolutely nowhere on her skinny body for the alcohol to go after she'd consumed it but to her head.

"Holy God," she burped, and leaned her head heavily on Joey's arm. "Thissiz like... the best beer in the world of beers to be made into a beer. This," she holds it above her head, sloshing it everywhere. "Is the God of all beer."

[Joey] De Boozery
Joey cracks open her can of beer and attempts to knock it back. She's slow this time, with some of the alcoholic beverage spilling over her cheeks and down the outside of her scarred throat. Glancing around, she's not the only one. Glancing around, Joey quickly realizes moving her head right now is not the smartest thing she could be doing. She has lost no small amount of her alcohol tolerance, because as soon as she turns her head, the room tilts.

"Whoa what the fuck?" she asks, blearily. Astounded and confused.

[Broken Hammer] Daniel is suddenly, and without quite understanding how, very fucking drunk. He slams down his... shot, or mug, or whatever the hell he was drinking, and then flops backwards on his bench. The ceiling -- which is a ceiling crafted by his own two hands, and the hands of his packmates and septmates, which would normally be a point of quiet pride but currently feels utterly awesome -- is blurry. The Forseti laughs at himself and then closes his eyes.

"Hey. Hey Joey. Guess what."

Pause.

"I think I'm going to sleep here tonight."

[Edward Bellamonte] Ed's Kandy and Kard Kastle
Another card burned and a four of spades turned up; Ed doesn't so much have a poker face as he's across the board indifferent most of the time these days, since his return. Which isn't to say that he couldn't have a poker face if he didn't want to. For this round of betting, Edward puts in five gummy worms (as he had with the initial.

Playing poker for candy with Silver Fangs is fun, really!

Another card is burned, then it's the two of diamonds, a last round of betting (another two gummy worms) and the reveal. Wendy, unfortunately, has nothing. Each of the Bellamontes has a pair, but Gabbie's is higher, and thus she wins the hand.

"Want me to keep dealing, or should I pass it?"

[Hatchet] Longhouse - Drinking Contest
The Sentinels are not lightweights. Even when that skinny narcoleptic claustrophobic Theurge was among their numbers, no one would imagine them to be the first ones drunk under the table. No one would see them as the ones giggling madly after one puff of a joint. One of them is a pilot and a Fostern. Two of them are Fenrir.

But Hatchet is a fucking Fianna. He might argue that he was not born with blood in his veins but whisky, and that his mother's milk was laced with beer, and that he hasn't tasted water since he was twelve because it simply fails to hydrate him properly.

They drink again, this time just the Garou, and there's coughing and sputtering and choking rather than smooth swallowing. Hatchet just shakes his head as he lowers his empty plastic cup. "You all just stacked the deck against yourselves, that's what it is," he says, sighing in mock disappointment. There's not even a gleam of intoxication in his eyes yet. He blinks slowly and with evident amusement as Joey, normally so good at taking the punishment of booze, wavers alongside Daniel and Echo. "Which... you should never have done, when entering into a drinking contest with a member of a tribe that learned to drink by hanging out with the Little People." He blinks. "Who, as I hear it, cut their every concoction with pure, unadulterated madness. Which probably explains how I turned out like this. Anyway!"

The Rotagar, the Forseti, and the Walker are suddenly, incredibly drunk. Hatchet looks at the flask of gin sadly, as though he would have liked more. But then, brightly: "Who wants to wrestle?"

[Lonna Larson] Main fire

She looked at Drew, then the offered beverage. The blonde wasn't one to really refuse these sorts of things, though, and she took it and opened the bottle. She took a long drag, cocking her head to the side at her friend. Jeff gets a small smile, and a little wave.

Ezra gets a look. A genuine, slightly lingering look. Her stomach turns for a second, and instead she finds herself purposefully looking at Drew instead. She's gonna need this

"... did they cancel Survivor?"

[Echo Quinn] Longhouse

Echo surges to her feet [read: wobbles comically] like a politician in session about to announce her objection to some bill in the process of being passed and yells, absurdly loudly: "I, will wrestle you!"

[Broken Hammer] Boozeland
Daniel makes some sort of unintelligible mumble. His arms are over his face now, shielding his eyes from the glow of the fire.

[Joey] De Boozery
For the first time in weeks, Joey laughs. Or rather, she giggles. At Daniel.

"Yer drrrunk," she says, and she slaps her can of beer down.

She swings her head around to look up at her alpha. "You learned how'da drink with the Littles?" she asks in a stage whisper that is supposed to be an internal monologue, dark eyes narrowing slightly at the Fiann.

And then her face brightens considerably. Her freckled face splits in a grin, and she raises her hand like she's in school and she's just been asked what the capitol of Uruguay is and she just knows the answer is pie.

"Oo. I do!"

[Wendy Berber] POKER

*Wendy gives a sheepish sort of smirk as she loses a twizzler, speaking lowly across the table to Gabriella.*

um. I'll trade you a t-twizzler for a w-watermelon starburst.

*She looks to Edwards and nods for him to keep dealing, rubbing the back of her neck.*

I t-trust you.

[Ethan Yates] The Boozery
In rapid, almost record-breaking time, the young women and the Forseti find themselves completely and utterly drunk under the table. The rooster-haired woman declares the beer she's drinking to be the God of beer, the blonde can't figure out what's going on with the longhouse, and the Forseti announces that they're going to sleep here tonight.

He manages not to laugh at them until their Fianna leader makes his speech, at which point a full-bodied, incredibly amused rush leaves his throat. He is not completely hammered, but he is close to feeling no pain at this point.

And then the rooster-haired girl shoots to her feet and announces her intent to wrestle with the Philodox. The kinsman glances at the pack's Alpha with quiet amusement on his face, and takes a sip, not a slug, of his beer.

[Joey] [Please tag your posts with the following handy dandy color-coded chart:

Longhouse
Main Fire
Cooking Fires
Other

Food is being made around those smaller cooking fires and can be taken into the long house for eats. There are benches inside for sitting.]

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Longhouse
Gabriella grinned a small smile of victory when she laid down her two aces and collected the pile of candy. A Twizzler was stuck into her mouth to be chewed on, a watermelon starburst slid without protest across the table to Wendy, and she looked to Edward when he asked if he should keep going or if any of the ladies wanted to deal. Gabbie was about to answer when bellows about wrestling sprung up on the other end of the longhouse.

Her eyebrows lifted, she glanced between Wendy and Edward for a moment, then half-sighed and stood up, licorice still hanging out of the corner of her mouth like a brightly colored cigarette. She tugged at the scarf around her neck as she edged around the fire to infiltrate the Sentinals, speaking up just from just behind Joey and Echo.

"I don't suppose you'd like to take the roughhousing outside?" She snapped the candy out of her mouth to gesture toward the door with it, eyebrows lifted in an expression that was more thoughtful than anything else. "Less risk of rolling into walls and knocking them over. I personally would rather die in a manner other than being crushed by a log roof and fire."

[Ezra Turk] main Fiah

MMmMmm.

*As thrilling as the conversation with the asian man was, Ezra found his attention wandering. Turning as he felt eyes upon him, a wave of the fingers not tapping against the log he sits on. Ezra stands, looking down to Jeff with a quick manic flash of teeth.*

Stretching my legs.

*With that, he moves toward the cooking fires and the delicacies waiting there.*

[Hatchet] Longhouse - Wasteyland
Hatchet just gives a flat stare to Joey. "No," he says, with exasperated venom that is, like almost everything else tonight, affected. "My tribe did. Learn to listen!"

And he reaches over, flicking her in the forehead. Then ruffling the top of her head. "You wrestle Daniel over there, if you can get him to move. I'm going to beat the shit out of Echo, now."

He glances over at Ethan when he laughs, eyebrows flicking once, then back to his pack. "Shall we take this outside?" he suggests.

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
"Nah," Drew countered with a small grin from around the mouth of her beer bottle and cast her gaze back up to Lonna when Ezra stood and harmlessly (or at least harmless as far as Drew could hope) made his way over to the buffet tables to scrounge himself up some food. "Survivor just moved. They're tired of islands, decided to go for the desolate wilderness of North Illinois."

That thumped a thought through her mind, and she took another swig of her beer bottle that had her throat peeking out from over her scarf since her head was tipped back and the bottom of the beer bottle was kissing the sky. "That reminds me," she added, dropping her hand so that the beer bottle rested near her stomach, lifting the other hand so she could wipe her mouth.

"Did I tell ya that I'm headed outta town for, like, a month?" It was a month, right? She found herself searching her memory trying to recall if there ever really was a specific return date set or not.

[Joey] De Boozery
Hatchet reaches over to flick Joey in the forehead. She doesn't flinch or jerk her head away, but she squeezes her eyes shut and dips her chin down slightly. Rough fingers muss her hair, and she laughs that drunken giggle again. She can't remember the last time she was this drunk. Then again, right now, she can't remember yesterday.

Someone suggests they take their rough housing outside lest they destroy that which they spent two weeks building. Hatchet tells Joey that Daniel will be her dance partner, if she can get him to move.

The Rotagar turns to her Fenrir brother and shoves his shoulder. "Hey. Hey Dan. Daaaaniel. Get up, bro. It's time for me to kick your ass."

[Jeff Pyeon] Keron's House of Gourmet Goodies
The tall, lean, light skinned black man with light brown hair and a heavenly voice (a deep, chocolate smooth and velvet rough bass which was lifted as he worked, singing out Lady Gaga, of all things) was working over the cooking fires, turning a spit with what appears to be the better part of a pig on it. Ezra approaches, and he gets a wide, warm, and far more genuinely friendly smile than he'd gotten from the Glass Walker back at the main fire.

"Hey," Keron says, interrupting his singing. "There's more than enough and everyone's drinking and about to be fighting, from the sounds of it. Help yourself." There's a pause, and then the smile widens a bit; his accent, thick and southern, makes the bass seem richer and slower, a beautiful thing. "'m Keron."

[Ethan Yates] Boozeturbia
Somewhere in the process of logistics and planning, something in the kinsman's pocket buzzes. Loudly. He glances down, then reaches into the pocket of his peacoat to pull out an antiquated cellphone and flip it open. A few clicks of keys, a furrowed brow, and he pockets the phone again.

A suggestion to take it outside, and the kinsman hands off the barely-touched beer to the Philodox.

"For good luck," he says. He doesn't go so far as to wink, but the jest is in his voice.

[Keron Bradley] Keron's House of Gourmet Goodies
The tall, lean, light skinned black man with light brown hair and a heavenly voice (a deep, chocolate smooth and velvet rough bass which was lifted as he worked, singing out Lady Gaga, of all things) was working over the cooking fires, turning a spit with what appears to be the better part of a pig on it. Ezra approaches, and he gets a wide, warm, and far more genuinely friendly smile than he'd gotten from the Glass Walker back at the main fire.

"Hey," Keron says, interrupting his singing. "There's more than enough and everyone's drinking and about to be fighting, from the sounds of it. Help yourself." There's a pause, and then the smile widens a bit; his accent, thick and southern, makes the bass seem richer and slower, a beautiful thing. "'m Keron."

[Lonna Larson] Main Fire
"You did not tell me that.. where are you headed?" there is a pause at that thought, and the blonde took a second to let her mind wander, "do you want me to watch Basil while you're gone, or is someone else going to dogsit?"

She is, as usual, the personable sort.

She takes a second and puts her hand in her coat pocket while she drinks. The blnde seems to take a quiet joy in beer, to taste it, to feel like she's drinking a damned loaf of bread, but that was not the important part. She liked beer. Something about it was painfully uncomplicated.

"Who're you going with?"

[Hatchet] Longhouse
Gabriella gets a long look when she comes up to Joey and Echo to suggest they go outside to wrestle. He doesn't hear what she says. Or pretends he doesn't hear what she says. Either way he ends up taking his eyes off her and stays behind while Echo, Joey, and Daniel either get out of the longhouse or lie around on the packed-dirt floor groaning because the fire makes things too shiny and the beer makes things simultaneously very very pretty and very very loud and difficult to cope with.

He's watching to make sure they make it out alive. Or to make sure they fall in neat piles rather than in the fire or on top of one another. And then there's a beer in his hand, pressed there by a guy in a peacoat. Hatchet looks over at Ethan and hands the flask of gin over.

"Didn't you hear?" he says, and points to his face when Ethan takes the flask. "Fianna. We are luck."

He doesn't offer a name, or ask for one. He turns back to his packmates, drinking the given beer and laughing as Joey tries to tug Daniel upward.

[Ethan Yates] [NIGHT FUCKERS]

[Broken Hammer] Booze
Daniel refuses to move the first few times he's prodded, mumbling something that's not even English against his arms.

The third or fourth time, though, he abruptly sits upright, opening his eyes wide to peer owlishly around the longhouse. Then: "Okay. Let's do it." And he smacks his hand into the bench under him, stomps his foot on the hardpacked dirt floor. "Right here."

[Ezra Turk] Cookin fire to LOGGIN OUT

Sincerest pleasure to meet you Keron. If you'll excuse me...

*Crackles the vulpine featured man in a voice better left to silence and horror flicks. A pale knobby hand lashes out and captures a plate of some sort of meat. It makes no matter to Ezra as he tips a hand to crazy hair in a salute, and disappears into the woods.*

[Edward Bellamonte] Poker (that's what she said)
Gabbie's up talking to someone and Wendy's looking nervous, shy. I trust you, she says, and instead of dealing, he offers a smirk. "Thanks," he says. "Trust's a hard thing to come by, sometimes. And you don't have to stay for another hand if you don't want. I just don't generally like drinking just for drinking's sake, is all."

[Echo Quinn] Longhouse!

Echo is already on her feet, she's just been, you know, sort of staring off into the distance with a slightly unfocused sheen to her eyes. She snaps back to the moment now, and with a big, vibrant grin untangles herself from where she's been sitting next to Joey and Daniel.

"Yeah! Come on, dude! Try and kick my ass!" She starts hopping up and down, her fists jabbing left and right at the air.

[Joey] De Boozery
Joey is still drunkenly pushing at Daniel's shoulder when suddenly the Forseti sits bolt upright. The Rotagar rocks backwards a little, and then a little more as the room takes a sudden twist. Her arm snaps out to clamp a hand onto Daniel's shoulder to steady herself.

Then. "Nooo. We should." She stops, frowns, and looks at Daniel. "But, I don't wanna go outside, it's fuckin' cold as balls out there, y'know?"

[Wendy Berber] Poker

*It was the rage and the smell of watermelon doing it. Wendy was turning a vaguely olive color, hands going clammy as she fought to deny the nausea curdling her stomach. The thin kin looks to the card table with a frown, before glancing back up to Edward and Gabbie in turn. *

S-sorry. I'm a little q-queasy. Um. Thank you though. So much. F-for the poker. Edward, Gabriella. Nice m-meeting you b-both.

*Its with that the GW kin stands to her full 6 ft, and makes her way rather hastily out of the longhouse. She'd fine a tree and hold it up until she felt well enough to help the kin with food once more, leaving later in the night, twizzlers forgotten in her haste.*

[Echo Quinn] Den of Sin

Echo snorts and points at Joey.

"You said balls."

My, you can just see the maturity level slipping.

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
Drew shrugged helplessly when Lonna insisted that Drew didn't just inform her that she was going to be heading away. What could you do? That's what that shrug said. A nod of her head indicated that she intended to move closer to the fire to thwart the chill, and she followed through with what her motion suggested, taking a few steps closer to the fire, rubbing at her sweater-clad arms, then taking another drink of beer.

"Fucking Alaska," she informed Lonna, and allowed a few seconds for that to sink in. That's right. Alaska. In January.

"It'd be freaking great if you could watch Basil. He'd love it, he'd much rather that, in a place that's, y'know, more like home than out at the Youngs' house. It saves me having to explain why I'm gone for so long and all that to them."

Another drink of beer, and a bit of a half-shrug. "Joe and Thomas." Who else?

[Joey] De Boozery
Joey looks at Echo, and giggles. The hand on Daniel's shoulder slides away so she can piont at the Fostern No Moon.

"No, you said balls, haha!"

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Longhouse
A long stare was all that Gabriella got from the Fianna before having him turn his back on her and return attention to his troops. The Silver Fang frowned softly, the expression some cocktail of negative emotion, and folded her arms over her chest and took a few retreating steps back.

A glance was cut back to the card table, where Wendy was standing to excuse herself rather hastily, looking an uncomfortable shade of pea-green as she bustled on out the door, leaving Edward alone at the card table. She made a bit of a face and sucked in a breath, then retreated a few more steps until she was beside the card table once more. Standing still, however, rather than sitting.

[Lonna Larson] Main fire
"You had better put hats on them," she said. Matter of factly.

Joe and Thomas were Fenrir. Joe and Thomas were warriors of the nation. They were strong and proud to the point of hubris at times. They were powerful, they were many things... but they were also distinctly lacking in hair. Which, of course, meant that they were more than likely going to lose a lot of body heat if they were going to be in Alaska in the winter. And, proud warriors though they may be, they were Fenrir.

Which meant, of course, that they would, if necessary, fight naked in subzero temperatures if need be.

Ergo, they needed hats.

"And I wouldn't mind. I could use the company, Basil could use the company. He's a good dog, I love him to death."

Funny, Lonna Larson mentioning that you could love something to death.

[Thomas] Main Fire

The wind crept up across the clearing for several moments, setting a dance in the fire's stretch. It brought with it moment's shadow on the clearing's edge, the puff of breath as herald to the coal ash wolf that pushes through shrub and undergrowth a small ways back from the treeline. A moment later and the wolf is a man, draped in hoodie, cargos and boots, snow crunching underfoot and gaze pushing through the foliage, squinting at the limbs that snap back into his path.

He grunts with it, ducking beneath a waving bough to emerge onto the Bonfire's scene, gaze arrested by the sudden presence of a Longhouse, a brow quirked and a flickering curl at one corner of his mouth (as if to say 'Well look at that') brought up. He rolls his jaw, gaze flicking from body to body, present outside, before finding the familiar presence by the large fire.

Snow crunches as he makes his way over, tucking hands into hoodie pocket and brow further beneath the cap.

[Hatchet] Longhouse
Daniel tries to insist that the packmates wrestle here, right here, thumping the floor for emphasis, and Hatchet gives him a considering look. "Fuckit!" he announces, quite loudly. "We built this motherfucker, we can wrestle in it."

And he launches at Echo.

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
Drew laughed out loud and nodded, swigging down the remaining quarter of her beer bottle and letting her weight settle on her left leg, that way her left hip wound up jutting out further than the right, while the right knee relaxed and popped out a little more. This posture said that she intended to be standing here for a while, talking and looking at her empty beer bottle like she wished it would fill itself back up and soaking up the heat from the monstrous blaze that she found so accurately represented the feeling she got standing next to either of the Boys on a full moon.

"Man, Lonna, I already bought them hats. I never see 'em wearing them." The empty bottle was tipped up for examination, then she glanced around like she might find some trash bin had manifested beside her. Instead she found Thomas, a dozen feet away, boots tromping from where snow existed to where it melted away under the oppressive heat of the fire. "Oh hey," she said in a tone that was pleasant and light enough to suggest that she drank both beers a little too quickly, even though she wasn't swaying or anything. "Speak of the devil."

And Thomas got a nod of a head and a lift of an empty bottle in greeting. "Hey."

[Joey] De Boozery
Hatchet gives the okay to fight inside the building they spent so much time making. She stares at her alpha thoughtfully right up until he launches himself at Echo. Then her face splits in a grin.

Joey lurches to her feet, and lunges for Daniel.

[Edward Bellamonte] Longhouse
"Yeah . . . you want to go, Gabbie?" Edward no longer finds much need to stay. He'd appeared, been somewhat sociable, and now he's done.

[Jeff Pyeon] Main Fire
Jeff, new and known by few at best, eventually fades into the background and takes off. He'll be back to help with the clean up tomorrow.

[Keron Bradley] Cooking Fire
Keron's in the swing of things now - he talks to the other people manning the food, shares smiles and laughs and songs, and when Drew's ready to go? Unless someone else snags him, which is unlikely, he'll head out with her. Or, if she has other things going on, he'll hike out to the road and make his own way back home. He's resourceful that way.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Longhouse
What she would call mingled advice with a request was left completely unheeded and four full grown adult Garou start grappling and wrestling in the lodge, which had Gabriella making a face of twinned distaste and apprehensive uncertainty of anyone's safety. She took a step back closer to her brother, who seemed to have grown silent and a little less than amused by the antics now that his poker buddy had gone out in the bushes to vomit.

"Yeah," she responded, and did whatever was asked or necessary to pack up and dodge around the wrestling group and make her exit as hastily as possible.

Haughty, uppity Silver Fangs anyways.

[Edward Bellamonte] Longhouse to Outta Here
It didn't take any more help to get the table down and out than it had to get it in and up, and so, with a new haul of candy to split between them, the (impeccably bred) siblings take off, depriving the masses of their continued presence

[Thomas] Main Fire

He doesn't say it. Doesn't need to really.

He just offers a nod in reply. A pause. Then a lift of his hand to tug on the winter cap he's wearing beneath his hood. Then, he settles himself a place alongside Drew, normally grim expression a little less so tonight. Hands remain in pockets and his eyes go into the fire, the stretch of thoughts long in his face, lips pressed firmly together and the lines of War as smooth as they're going to get in his eighteen years.

[Lonna Larson]

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
Drew watched Thomas for a few moments while he responded to the greeting with a simple nod and eased into a comfortable, relaxed stand next to her, then smiled an expression that was a genuine sort of happy that most people forget about when they're seven years old. She rolled her shoulders under the thick fluff of her puffy white down vest, and settled for silence for a minute.

All three of them did, Kinfolk and Blessed and Skald alike.

Drew would, of course, wind up breaking the silence though. This should be expected of her. But at least she did so pleasantly, in an easy, mellow voice rather than yelping when a thought occurred to her in her excitement to share it with everyone else, as she sometimes had a tendency to do.

"Thomas, when're we coming back? Lonna's gonna be watching Basil, and I've gotta finalize things with Eustace."
Eustace was her boss, she may have mentioned that.

[Thomas] "When we're Strong enough."

Enigmatic and distracted, or maybe just simple and without qualms, it is perhaps the first time Drew might have heard Thomas without that hint of...zealotry beneath his tongue. The fire of Fenris burned almost constantly in his wake and head and to have him offer something without a hint of oratory was...well, normal. Perhaps a little odd. His gaze remains in the firelight, hands dipping to pluck up twig disturbed from beneath the snow by his settling, snapping it into portions and tossing the bits to the fire.

"Plan for the winter season if you have to."

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
"Mmkay," is what Drew has to respond to Thomas with initially, and she looked at her beer bottle and contemplated tossing it into the flames to see if they were strong enough to make it crack and strain, possibly even melt. But then she didn't want to be one of those assholes that winds up on every single camping trip she's been on, the ones that throw their beer cans into the fire and their twinkie wrappers as well, as though it was a trash can and not their source for everything they needed over the next few days.

She held into it instead, nipping the inside of her cheek with her canine teeth before nodding. She'd been doing some mental math and drawing some conclusions. Confident that her savings account was still sturdy enough to hold out, she decided she wouldn't have to worry too much about bills in her wake, she'd just pay everything in advance and leave account numbers and the like behind for Lonna, just in case.

Her eyes flicked over to the Skald again, and that smile crept back onto her face. "Good to see you rediscovered the hat, but what about the coat?"

[Hatchet] The Silver Fangs empty out of the Longhouse, drifting off to other affairs. The night is bitterly cold, the fires the only source of warmth beyond whatever rage warms the Garou themselves. Inside the longhouse it's warmer, though none of the Sentinels take off their coats or jackets or what-have-you when they start wrestling. Hatchet and Joey move first, tackling their respective opponents, but in an eyeblink, Echo goes from wavering on her feet to snapping into reaction.

It's because she's a big bad cheaterface, calling on a Gift to keep her body and reaction times from remembering that she's drunk. She's faster than he is, moving to tackle him before he gets to her, but either his size or his own speed keep her from getting a hold on the Philodox. So instead she throws a punch at him, which he takes hard in the jaw.

"Ow!" roars the Fianna. "Fuck!"

In the next second he activates the same Gift, grabbing Echo by one elbow and yanking her in, toppling with her to the dirt floor and pinning her there, slamming his forehead into hers. Echo's head bops once against the dirt but she doesn't lose consciousness, nor stop fighting. She twists her arms, trying to reverse the hold he has on her, but he's quite big. And he's quite strong. And he has a very, very tight hold on her.

Which he takes advantage of, tightening his arms and cracking their skulls together a second time. This is not quite wrestling, but it's hard to say whether or not Garou of their Rage could simply roll around in that sort of struggle without doing some kind of damage eventually. Control is one thing. A certain need for ruthless violence is another. There are no witnesses but other packmates, anyway.

Hatchet is about to squeeze Echo til she loses consciousness when he looks down and realizes she already has. He lets out a laugh. "Well!"

Another laugh. "Fuck!"

[Thomas] "Coats are restrictive."

His hands rise to pat at his shoulders, murmuring quietly, something restless creeping into him. A sudden surge of energy pulls him to his feet, the Skald taking a final look at the flames before turning to glance down at Drew.

"Get your things packed away. You should be on the road in a couple of days. Joe and I leave tomorrow morning." That said by way of good bye, he turns from the fire and over the log he'd been sitting on, drifting over snows and ice. There would be a lone wolf howling someways into the distance in a little while. Contemplating and introspective.

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
Drew blinked when Thomas suddenly rocketed up with some burst of energy that seemed to come out of nowhere, and her eyes jerked down for half a second to see if he'd sat on any embers from the fire or anything. Nope, didn't look like it. Just Thomas being Thomas, she judged, after he half-snapped for her to pack and finish tying up her ends because she was supposed to head out in a few days.

He and Joe were leaving in the morning, and that was all he had to say, because she got shoulders and back two seconds later, retreating into the trees. Drew blinked after him, then sighed and muttered after him.

"Well, bye then."

And hunkered down to sit on the log he'd been at, elbows on her knees, empty bottle dangling precariously at her fingertips while she went thoughtful for a few minutes.

[Echo Quinn] Echo is out of it for a few seconds, and then she coughs, peels open her dark eyes and glares up at the world. "Ow, you fucker, I think you broke my head." She groans, hisses and half-heartedly bucks her body to throw her Alpha off. "Gerrof, you giant Moose."

[Hatchet] "I totally broke your head," Hatchet says, observing the bruising across Echo's forehead and face. He chuckles and starts to get up, planting one hand on her breastbone and shoving her back down to use her body as leverage. He looks around once he stands, wondering what happened to the beer the cute guy pushed into his hand. He frowns.

"Where the fuck's my beer?"

[Kate] (Phobia Check for Woods with their germs and creepy crawly things and probably unwashed Bone Gnawer types.)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Joey] Joey lunges for Daniel, face split in a wide, drunken parody of her old smile. Along the way she suddenly shifts. She's taller, broader of build, and a lot less pretty. Her hair is shaggier, and her nails have grown, hardened into something more like claws. She bunches her right hand into a fist, and swings for Daniel's face. It's too soon yet for the change of forms to have given the Rotagar much of an advantage. Her swing is wild, and she misses her packmate completely.

Daniel is on his feet a second later, trying to take advantage of Joey's momentary imbalance to knock her down. He manages to bounce off the Glabro Fenrir, knocking himself to the ground instead. When Joey feels that enough of the alcohol has been burned out of her system to give her an advantage, she shifts back down to the grinning, smallest member of The Sentinels once more.

She drops to one knee briefly, punching Daniel in the chest. It's an awkward hit, with little power behind it. Daniel doesn't even feel it. He kicks Joey's legs out from under her, knocking her to the ground.

And, quite suddenly, that's it. Joey doesn't hit her head on a bench or crack her skull on the floor, but when she goes down she drops into unconsciousness. It's not the oblivion of too many injuries taken, of her body shutting down so it can try to begin the healing process. At two beers, somehow, she's past the point of ordinary inebriation. When she falls, her head lolls to the side, and the Rotagar drops into a drunken slumber.

Not more than a moment after Joey hits the floor, Daniel follows her into unconsciousness.

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
Drew watched Thomas for a few moments while he responded to the greeting with a simple nod and eased into a comfortable, relaxed stand next to her, then smiled an expression that was a genuine sort of happy that most people forget about when they're seven years old. She rolled her shoulders under the thick fluff of her puffy white down vest, and settled for silence for a minute.

All three of them did, Kinfolk and Blessed and Skald alike.

Drew would, of course, wind up breaking the silence though. This should be expected of her. But at least she did so pleasantly, in an easy, mellow voice rather than yelping when a thought occurred to her in her excitement to share it with everyone else, as she sometimes had a tendency to do.

"Thomas, when're we coming back? Lonna's gonna be watching Basil, and I've gotta finalize things with Eustace."
Eustace was her boss, she may have mentioned that.

[Thomas] "When we're Strong enough."

Enigmatic and distracted, or maybe just simple and without qualms, it is perhaps the first time Drew might have heard Thomas without that hint of...zealotry beneath his tongue. The fire of Fenris burned almost constantly in his wake and head and to have him offer something without a hint of oratory was...well, normal. Perhaps a little odd. His gaze remains in the firelight, hands dipping to pluck up twig disturbed from beneath the snow by his settling, snapping it into portions and tossing the bits to the fire.

"Plan for the winter season if you have to."

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
"Mmkay," is what Drew has to respond to Thomas with initially, and she looked at her beer bottle and contemplated tossing it into the flames to see if they were strong enough to make it crack and strain, possibly even melt. But then she didn't want to be one of those assholes that winds up on every single camping trip she's been on, the ones that throw their beer cans into the fire and their twinkie wrappers as well, as though it was a trash can and not their source for everything they needed over the next few days.

She held into it instead, nipping the inside of her cheek with her canine teeth before nodding. She'd been doing some mental math and drawing some conclusions. Confident that her savings account was still sturdy enough to hold out, she decided she wouldn't have to worry too much about bills in her wake, she'd just pay everything in advance and leave account numbers and the like behind for Lonna, just in case.

Her eyes flicked over to the Skald again, and that smile crept back onto her face. "Good to see you rediscovered the hat, but what about the coat?"

[Hatchet] The Silver Fangs empty out of the Longhouse, drifting off to other affairs. The night is bitterly cold, the fires the only source of warmth beyond whatever rage warms the Garou themselves. Inside the longhouse it's warmer, though none of the Sentinels take off their coats or jackets or what-have-you when they start wrestling. Hatchet and Joey move first, tackling their respective opponents, but in an eyeblink, Echo goes from wavering on her feet to snapping into reaction.

It's because she's a big bad cheaterface, calling on a Gift to keep her body and reaction times from remembering that she's drunk. She's faster than he is, moving to tackle him before he gets to her, but either his size or his own speed keep her from getting a hold on the Philodox. So instead she throws a punch at him, which he takes hard in the jaw.

"Ow!" roars the Fianna. "Fuck!"

In the next second he activates the same Gift, grabbing Echo by one elbow and yanking her in, toppling with her to the dirt floor and pinning her there, slamming his forehead into hers. Echo's head bops once against the dirt but she doesn't lose consciousness, nor stop fighting. She twists her arms, trying to reverse the hold he has on her, but he's quite big. And he's quite strong. And he has a very, very tight hold on her.

Which he takes advantage of, tightening his arms and cracking their skulls together a second time. This is not quite wrestling, but it's hard to say whether or not Garou of their Rage could simply roll around in that sort of struggle without doing some kind of damage eventually. Control is one thing. A certain need for ruthless violence is another. There are no witnesses but other packmates, anyway.

Hatchet is about to squeeze Echo til she loses consciousness when he looks down and realizes she already has. He lets out a laugh. "Well!"

Another laugh. "Fuck!"

[Thomas] "Coats are restrictive."

His hands rise to pat at his shoulders, murmuring quietly, something restless creeping into him. A sudden surge of energy pulls him to his feet, the Skald taking a final look at the flames before turning to glance down at Drew.

"Get your things packed away. You should be on the road in a couple of days. Joe and I leave tomorrow morning." That said by way of good bye, he turns from the fire and over the log he'd been sitting on, drifting over snows and ice. There would be a lone wolf howling someways into the distance in a little while. Contemplating and introspective.

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
Drew blinked when Thomas suddenly rocketed up with some burst of energy that seemed to come out of nowhere, and her eyes jerked down for half a second to see if he'd sat on any embers from the fire or anything. Nope, didn't look like it. Just Thomas being Thomas, she judged, after he half-snapped for her to pack and finish tying up her ends because she was supposed to head out in a few days.

He and Joe were leaving in the morning, and that was all he had to say, because she got shoulders and back two seconds later, retreating into the trees. Drew blinked after him, then sighed and muttered after him.

"Well, bye then."

And hunkered down to sit on the log he'd been at, elbows on her knees, empty bottle dangling precariously at her fingertips while she went thoughtful for a few minutes.

[Echo Quinn] Echo is out of it for a few seconds, and then she coughs, peels open her dark eyes and glares up at the world. "Ow, you fucker, I think you broke my head." She groans, hisses and half-heartedly bucks her body to throw her Alpha off. "Gerrof, you giant Moose."

[Hatchet] "I totally broke your head," Hatchet says, observing the bruising across Echo's forehead and face. He chuckles and starts to get up, planting one hand on her breastbone and shoving her back down to use her body as leverage. He looks around once he stands, wondering what happened to the beer the cute guy pushed into his hand. He frowns.

"Where the fuck's my beer?"

[Kate] (Phobia Check for Woods with their germs and creepy crawly things and probably unwashed Bone Gnawer types.)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Joey] Joey lunges for Daniel, face split in a wide, drunken parody of her old smile. Along the way she suddenly shifts. She's taller, broader of build, and a lot less pretty. Her hair is shaggier, and her nails have grown, hardened into something more like claws. She bunches her right hand into a fist, and swings for Daniel's face. It's too soon yet for the change of forms to have given the Rotagar much of an advantage. Her swing is wild, and she misses her packmate completely.

Daniel is on his feet a second later, trying to take advantage of Joey's momentary imbalance to knock her down. He manages to bounce off the Glabro Fenrir, knocking himself to the ground instead. When Joey feels that enough of the alcohol has been burned out of her system to give her an advantage, she shifts back down to the grinning, smallest member of The Sentinels once more.

She drops to one knee briefly, punching Daniel in the chest. It's an awkward hit, with little power behind it. Daniel doesn't even feel it. He kicks Joey's legs out from under her, knocking her to the ground.

And, quite suddenly, that's it. Joey doesn't hit her head on a bench or crack her skull on the floor, but when she goes down she drops into unconsciousness. It's not the oblivion of too many injuries taken, of her body shutting down so it can try to begin the healing process. At two beers, somehow, she's past the point of ordinary inebriation. When she falls, her head lolls to the side, and the Rotagar drops into a drunken slumber.

Not more than a moment after Joey hits the floor, Daniel follows her into unconsciousness.

[Hatchet] Looking around, he sees that Joey and Daniel haven't gotten up from their own brawl. And he starts laughing so hard tears come to his eyes.

[Echo Quinn] End Transmission kind of joins in the laughter when she can sit upright, her head pounding so hard it feels as if it might crack down the center like a bird's egg. "Oh -- ow -- my god, they killed each other!" She howls, and sort of half stumble, half crawls toward them to make sure they're both still breathing and all that.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] When Ed and Gabbie step out of the smoky longhouse, they find Lukas at the main bonfire, coat open, scarf undone.

Their presence flickers in his mind before they're close enough for him to have heard their footsteps over the roar of the fire. He turns to look at them. With the flames at his back, his face is in shadow. They can still see him smile.

"Hey," he says quietly. And he turns back to the fire.

(annnd i think we can just assume gabbie's being quiet and tagging along since kenna had to zonk.)

[Broken Hammer] It's not that he can't get up. It's not that he's knocked out, or injured, or even particularly exhausted. He's just drunk. And the ground feels good. And...

Daniel lies where he dropped. Not too long after, he's asleep.

[Genevre de Provence] Genevre hadn't quit moved into the Bellamonte loft fully yet. But she asked Katherine if she could attend. She tried to dress down a bit, but for Genevre, this still meant a pair of those $100 blue jeans every teen wants, A plush lilac sweater that felt like a cloud when you touched it, and a tan fur jacket buckled with toggles. And lets not forget those boots that cost a McD's worker a full paycheck. She had her hair all hidden under a knitted lilac beret.

As she made her way, she kept a lookout for the one person she was doing her best to avoid. Fons.

[Hatchet] "Truly," Hatchet says, feigning seriousness through laughter. There's bruising across his jaw and forehead, too, as he abandons his search for his beer and heads over to his auspicemate.

Which is interesting, since Joey was in the pack first. He does not check for Daniel's pulse or breathing. He just chuckles and picks the Fenrir up, taking him to one of the narrow benches that counts as a bed. There's a blanket there. He throws it over Daniel, covering all of him, including his head.

"Buttheads," he says fondly of both Cliaths, and goes to his own narrow bench to -- not sleep, but -- drink more.

[Edward Bellamonte] "Hey," Edward answers, and takes up his (once) customary place at Lukas' side - or perhaps it had been Lukas' place at his side. Regardless, Silver Fang Ragabash and Shadow Lord Ahroun (it sounds like the beginning of a bad joke) stand together, contemplating the fire.

Since his return, Edward's been even quieter than usual, more internalized than usual. His laugher's been more rare, and quieter, less open, when it does come. His eyes are shuttered (lights are out but someone's home) and he keeps himself to himself - listens when chatter comes through the totem-lines, but doesn't often speak up himself.

[Echo Quinn] Eventually, or maybe instantly, Echo follows in her Alpha's wake, scooping Joey up in her arms and carrying the drunk No Moon to another of those narrow benches so she can snooze without getting walked on. Then, most likely, Echo goes to challenge Hatchet to another drinking contest -- after she's healed some more, y'know.

Whatever.

[Genevre de Provence] So far so good, and quietly she enters the Long house. Her eyes glance around for a moment, before she made her way to get a drink.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Winter solstice is a time for internalization, though. A time for reflection, and quiet, and contemplation. Preparation. Summer's barely imaginable right now, with the land locked in ice and cold. Spring is a dream, so far on the horizon as to not matter. The coldest months are ahead of them.

Were they wolves, now would be the time to dig the dens deeper, to grow out their coats, to feed the cubs and make them strong enough to survive the winter. There would be a glut of prey at the start of the season, when all the leaves are fallen and the deer and the hares are easy to see. Then comes the bitter moon, the starving season, the time when the pack whittles down to the bones, cleaves close, stays near, finds strength in one another.

Lukas finds a sort of strength standing next to Edward, though they don't speak much. They haven't spoken much since Edward came back. Since he left. But after a moment, Lukas nudges the Ragabash with his shoulder.

"Let's go in." And he tips his head in the direction of the longhouse.

[Kate] Katherine was ... reluctant to attend.

It wasn't that she disliked the notion of gathering with her fellow Garou, it was more the idea that to do so she had to come out to the middle of absolutely nowhere and sit around fires in the freezing cold whist every last known germ-ridden thing in the Universe hovered in the shadows, awaiting its moment to pounce and smear her with its ungodly grime and -- one could only imagine -- slime.

Now, the queenly figure cloaked in a white winter's coat and matching boots was trekking a pathway toward the Longhouse, her breath misting out before her, nose pink in the crisp air.

[Edward Bellamonte] Even more than most, Ed is not quite right (in many ways, really, but that's aside from the point) without the company of his pack. There's a deep breath, holding it, as Lukas bumps his shoulder and turns, and Edward shrugs. "Alright," he says, and goes back into the longhouse with his youngest sister tagging along behind, quiet. She, too, will likely find a bench while the Garou talk, or . . . well, do whatever it is they end up doing.

Genevre had had to walk by (though, had she passed on the fire, missing the two members of the Unbroken is understandable) them, though Ed hadn't noted. He only notes her now because she's the only one inside standing.

"Genevre," he says in a tone that's impossible to read aside from the crushing weight of polite; this is paired with an incline of his head by way of greeting.

It's not much, but he's out and about and talking to people. It's something.

[Genevre de Provence] She offered a touch of a smile as she saw Lukas and Edward enter the LongHouse. She stood alone, off to the side, and sipping whatever it was alcoholic she could find. "Bonsoir, mes amis."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas quickens his step to catch up with Kate before she enters the longhouse. He reaches out as he nears, putting his hand on her shoulder with a sort of easy familiarity that Edward, at least, might find strange. When he left Chicago nearly a year ago, Lukas and Kate could barely speak to one another without bickering.

It's different now. They've come to some sort of odd accord; a kind of peace, or at least truce, that's underlain with something unexpectedly close to trust.

And Genevre is there, too, when the three Unbroken -- the core, as it were, of the pack they were before this -- duck into the longhouse. Where Edward is unreadably polite, Lukas looks at her with a sort of wry humor. "What, no screeching defiance and hurling of invectives tonight, Genevre?"

[Genevre de Provence] Her eyes fell to the ground at Lukas' comment. "Non. And I am very sorry for 'ow I acted last week, monsior Lukas. It will non 'appen again."

[Kate] Lukas sets his hand on Katherine's shoulder, and she turns to cast her pack-mate and Alpha a briefly warm smile before her features settle back into their more atypical non-expression, she tweaks her elder brother's little finger with her own in a gesture not lost from when they were young children together and she wanted his attention fixed on her -- now she does it purely out of fondness.

Lukas baits Genevre, and Katherine's pale eyes narrow fractionally at him, a silent request for him to behave himself, it would appear before her lips quirk slightly at either edge when the Kinswoman bows her head and offers him an apology for her behavior. Katherine, have no doubt, looks quite satisfied with herself, the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary.

[Danicka Musil] Her cab -- not her car -- comes late to the parking lot, as it always does to these bonfires. She is always busy on the equinoxes and solstices, and has been since she was nine years old, since before she was nine. Tonight, especially, it's amazing she's here before dawn. It's amazing she's here at all. Danicka leaves the taxicab alone, and the driver asks her again if she's sure, if she's absolutely sure. He doesn't know there are people out there who she knows, people more dangerous than any stranger could be to her.

Danicka assures him, laughing, that yes, yes, she's sure. She's absolutely sure. And she gives him double her fare. "Veselé vánoce," she says, then translates: "Merry Christmas, if I don't see you again."

As though they are old friends, and so he knows that it is a gift, and not a mistake.

She exits the car and he watches her walk towards the path as though expecting her to come back, to come to her senses. She does not. She heads into the woods, and emerges some time later where their are bonfires and the leftovers of food, of drink. No one is sleeping on the ground with blankets this time, and no one is running off into the trees to fuck against the bark or against the mud. Danicka smiles to herself, because no one who really knows her is outside to see her.

There's shelter. She heads towards it, and a little while later comes in through the entryway, looking... incredibly out of place, as she takes off the black overcoat she's wearing as though it is much, much warmer inside the longhouse than it really is. She looks like she should be somewhere else. And, quite simply: she looks stunning.

Danicka rarely wears black. Even her coats are usually different colors. Tonight, though, she's drenched in it. The hem of her off-the-shoulder dress is becoming ragged and dirty and wet from dragging across the ground, but the filth is hard to see in the dark fabric. The neckline is straight across her chest, the bodice fitted. The sleeves, too, hug her arms down to the base of her hands. There are faint impressions on all her fingers as though she was wearing rings that are no longer present.

Her hair is down, thickened with curls at the ends, which rest on and over her shoulders, falling into place as she removes her coat. But what ultimately looks the strangest is the wreath adorning her head, all dark leaves and dried roses that look, in this light especially, as black as her gown. At her feet -- where she set it down when she reached up to take off her coat -- there's a basket, its contents covered by a white cloth.

Danicka thoughtlessly tosses her coat onto one of the benches, picks up the basket, and walks to the fire, setting it down by her feet again and peeling back the white cover.

[Edward Bellamonte] This easy submission gets a raised eyebrow, and a smirk. "It seems my little sister has been good for you, Genevre," he says, taking a moment to grasp the pinky finger that tweaks his, and to slip his sister something that's . . . well, as close to a smile, maybe a hint closer than, any other expression his face has borne since his return. Then there's Danicka and her entrance, and Ed falls quiet again.

She's vaguely familiar, of course - he remembers the trouble that had occurred between Lukas and Sam, and all the angst over her. He'd wondered then if she was worth it, as he does now, but where he might have (and maybe did) asked before, he shrugs it off now.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] A more gracious man would accept the apology and brush off the incident that spurred it. But Lukas, though often courteous, almost always unfailingly polite, is not a gracious man. He's not a man at all.

He's a Shadow Lord. And his pale eyes pin Genevre for another instant. "See that it doesn't," he says evenly.

And then he smiles. "But let's forget about that for tonight. It's the longest night and the beginning of the coldest season. Blood ties matter." He nods at the bench behind her. "Sit."

[Genevre de Provence] Genevre took a sip of her drink, and still smiled some. "She...'as been re-educating me." Her eyes shifted to Lukas, nodded politely, then took a seat on the bench behind her.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] -- and then Lukas's attention shifts away. The small door to the longhouse opens again, and a brief gust of cold air cuts through the warmth within. The Shadow Lord turns, looks, pauses for a beat. His eyes follow Danicka all the way to the fire.

When she's done with her basket, he doesn't look to see what she's brought. He looks at her. At her hair, actually.

"Co je to ve vlasech?" He sounds vaguely baffled. Then, switching to English, "Dried roses?"

[Genevre de Provence] She glanced to Lukas. "Oh, and congratulations on defeating mon cousin." There was a more glinting smile at that comment from her.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The congratulations slices through Lukas's attention, bringing his eyes snapping back to Genevre. He's not smiling, though; nothing close to gloating. He frowns at the Silver Fang kin.

"You heard?" And then he looks at Kate, a question in the lift of his eyebrows.

[Kate] Katherine cannot help the laugh that tinkles from her lips, a light and pleasing affair.

"I have done nothing, oui it is all her, do not believe these lies." Then, as she rids herself of her scarf and white knitted cap, her pale eyebrows rise at the expression on her pack-mate's face. "She was informed." Katherine responds with, her own voice level.

[Genevre de Provence] A nod given. "Katherine told me 'ow foolish mon cousin was, and 'e ran away with 'is tail between 'is legs." She looked to Kate. "Is zat wrong? After what 'e did to me?"

[Danicka Musil] The first thing she takes out is a napkin-wrapped hunk of bread that smells richly of honey. She breaks off a piece and tosses it into the fire as Lukas is asking her his bewildered question. That she does not look over immediately to answer him is a far cry from her behavior at the start of the year, when the three of the current Unbroken met her for -- in each of their lives -- the second time.

The next thing she removes from the basket is a piece of hard cheese, which she crumbles in her hands as she's dropping it into the flames. The fact that she is not answering the Shadow Lord now is less of an issue, less noticable: he is dealing with Genevre. They all are.

Danicka brushes her hands off in midair with two deliberate sweeps, then bends again and takes out a wine bottle, utterly unlabeled. She twists the already-removed-once cork out of the mouth, then pours out a single splash of the red, causing a brief flash of reaction from the fire.

"Holly listy, hloupé muže. A ano. R&+367;že," she answers, belatedly, a bit distantly. Then brings the wine bottle to her mouth and takes a drink before offering it to -- not Lukas, but Genevre.

[Genevre de Provence] She looked a touch surprised at Danicka's offer, but accepts it, taking a drink from the bottle, then giving it back. "Joyeux Noël, Danicka."

[Kate] The politics at play amongst a noble tribe.

Katherine merely smiles beatifically at Genevre's words, and remains silent on the subject, instead nodding her head infinitesimally at the young woman to indicate she was not incorrect before turning her eye on Danicka, and leaning in to greet the Kinswoman in her traditional manner of cheek to cheek.

"Well met, Danicka."

[Danicka Musil] "Veselé Vánoce, Genevre," she says, taking the bottle and turning then to Katherine, holding the bottle out to her, now.

Or she was about to. Katherine leans over to greet her familiarly, and Danicka's rather bright eyes flash cold. She jerks her head away, staring at the Philodox. "Don't ever touch me, Katherine."

Still. The bottle is offered.

[Kate] An eyebrow rises at that, she retracts the offer of greeting instantly; her demeanor closing off; cooling off in seconds.

"As you wish," she lifts her slender shoulders dismissively. "It makes no difference to me."

[Danicka Musil] The bottle held out is not taken. Danicka drinks as Kate shrugs off her refusal, licks her lower lip, and holds it out to Edward next.

[Edward Bellamonte] As quickly as his sister was denied - which wouldn't be so big a deal, perhaps, if done in another way, by another person (and, oh, yes, now that he looks her closer he remembers her from before earlier in the year as well, though when she'd been around, he'd been knocking between this boarding school and that, and then at Harvard) - and started closing off, Edward does the same.

It makes no difference, except that it does.

The Ragabash, who has needed a pack since before he changed, and called his sister so (if not in those words) since they were children, stays at her side and watches, quiet. He used to be a lot louder. A handful of months ago, he would have tried to make his sister laugh, to get her to take the bottle. Now said bottle is offered to him and he shakes his head. "Merci," he says, very polite, "but no thank you."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The frown flickers deeper. There's an uncharacteristic flatness to Lukas's tone. "That challenge is over," he says, "and as far as I'm concerned, the matter's been laid to rest. I'm happy to leave it at that."

Then --

Don't ever touch me.

There's an audible inhale from Lukas; no exhale until after Katherine replies. And then it's slow, measured. Lukas sits a little straighter, calling attention with his very posture.

"Katherine," he says quietly, "I apologize on my mate's behalf."

[Danicka Musil] This time when the wine is refused Danicka gives a small nod, but again, she takes a drink herself as though to replace the one that Edward would have.

...on my mate's behalf.

Danicka lowers the bottle, looking at Lukas a moment. And then holding it out to him.

[Genevre de Provence] She felt as if she insulted Lukas somehow. And her eyes went to the drink she had had in her hands. It was taking great feats (ie thinking about work, her cousin tied to train tracks in front of an oncoming train, wondering if she should bring her own coffee maker to the loft) to hold her tongue. "Still, I believe 'e needed it." Then shuts up quickly.

[Kate] A lick of anger to her smile when Lukas offers an apology on Danicka's behalf. "Merci, Lukas. But I do not believe she agrees with the sentiment. Still," Katherine leans into Edward a moment, leeching strength from his solid presence against her. "I believe I will fetch something to drink.

Genevre, prenez garde, elle peut être une poignée." Her Guardian's smile widens, then she wanders down the Longhouse in search of a beverage.

[Genevre de Provence] She nodded quickly. "Oui, Lady Katherine. Je ne dirai pas un mot de plus maintenant."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] And he looks right back at Danicka, his eyes direct, glittering, their clear blue nearly lost in the oranges and reds of firelight.

"Pro kurva boží, Dani&+269;ka," he murmurs. The bottle slaps firmly into his palm. He upends it, swallows, hands it back, and by then Genevre has spoken again. When his head turns toward her, the gesture is quick, powerful, a twist from the shoulders, animal.

"I killed your cousin," he says, deliberately, quietly. "I thought he would probably come back, and if he did I could use his madness against him. But I didn't know he would survive. He could have as easily died. I was perfectly willing to take that chance for the sake of victory.

"Now; what part of that do you believe he needed, Genevre? The death, or the reminder that Shadow Lords are every bit as ruthless as he believes?"

[Genevre de Provence] She blinked a bit in surprise at Lukas' comment. Her words came out slow. "A..good..kick..in..ze..ass?" Was what she meant Fons needed. Her eyes moved to Kate, apparently Kate left a few details out.

[Theron Locke] Theron arrived to the bonfire a little than everyone else it seemed, he headed towards the group of people that had gathered. A polite nod here and there to those he only knows in passing. Soon though he finally reaches those of his pack "Evening Lukas, Danicka... Edward, Kate.. Evening Genevre" a polite nod to them all , as he moves towards the fire warming his body and hands. His eyes gazing into the flames, his expression unreadable.

[Edward Bellamonte] Kate leaned into him and an arm went around her automatically - she leaned in for support and he gave it, even when he wasn't sure he had any to give, when he thought he may well topple over himself.

Like now.

But these things are subtle, and don't necessarily translate well over totem lines, even if Edward were broadcasting. And regardless of them all, Ed stands on his own, somewhere in the middle, when Kate goes in search of a drink. He has a drink already with him, and produces an old flask, one that Kate would recognize as having been their father's, though Lucien'd laid claim to it last. Whiskey can be a lovely thing.

Then there's talk of a challenge that Edward hadn't heard about, and an eyebrow raises; he looks over towards where his sister browses the beverages, and figures he'll wait and ask her later. It's over and done now, after all.

[Danicka Musil] To whatever it is that Lukas says to Danicka, she has no reply. She watches him drink, takes the bottle, and listens as he talks to Genevre about her cousin. Danicka has no context for the conversation. She does hear, though, and she understands what's being said. She stands there in front of Lukas, watching him in profile as he asks Genevre if this cousin of hers needed to be reminded that Shadow Lords are ruthless, underhanded, and vicious.

The basket is left uncovered near the Garou and the Fang kinswoman, filled with more of the honeyed bread and hard cheese. Danicka sits on Lukas's other side, the bottle set next to her, and reaches up to remove a couple of pins and take the wreath from her scalp, lowering it to her lap.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Surprisingly, Lukas doesn't fly into a rage at that. He stares for a second. And then he laughs -- a harsh, soundless exhale. It's the only reply Genevre gets.

The bottle of wine is still in his hand, unless Danicka had physically removed it from him. That seems unlikely. He lifts it, drinks; wine sloshes back to the bottom as he lowers it and, finally, hands it back.

"Enough. Ask Katherine about it later if you want. This is the winter solstice," he says, again, as though this mattered somehow; made a difference, "and I don't want to see battle lines drawn everywhere I turn."

Danicka removes her wreath beside him. She's beside him. Somehow he hadn't really expected that. He looks at her; not at her face but at her fingers, at the rose and holly wreath that she lowers to her lap, the flowers dried, the holly dark. He reaches out and takes it if she lets him, turning it over in his strong hands for a moment.

Then, gently -- a gesture that's uncharacteristically and undeniably intimate, and private -- he sets it back atop Danicka's hair. "To pat&+345;í tam," he says, quieter still.

[Kate] At some point, Katherine returns with a glass of red wine in hand and sips from it. Perhaps she has missed the remark her pack-mate made in regards to the Challenge, perhaps she was deliberate in lingering in her decision-making regarding the beverage until talk had moved onward.

"This construction is something of a marvel, is it not?" She remarks idly, following the line of timber up to the ceiling. "I wonder if it will be allowed to remain."

[Genevre de Provence] The laugh from Lukas surprised her but not as surprised as seeing Theron. She felt her body tense up, and for some reason, she can't get her body to breathe again.

Her drink was put on the bench, and she quickly went for the door.

[Danicka Musil] She lets him. Keep the wine. Take the wreath. When he hands it over she takes the bottle and puts it on the bench next to her without another drink. So far. If she has any reaction when he says he does not want to see battle lines drawn everywhere he looks, it does not tighten her jaw or spark in her eyes. Kate brings back red wine not marred by the potential germs lingering on the mouth from other drinkers.

She glances over and watches her wreath turn over and over in Lukas's hands, and when he moves to set it on top of her head again, she lets him do that, too. Her eyes are slightly downcast, her head lower than his by default, as he speaks. Then she lifts her head, and looks at his eyes for a half a heartbeat.

They drop to his jaw for the second half, then away completely. She glances over as Genevre heads out like the devil is on her heels, cocking a brow, then leans over and takes a bite of honeybread between her fingers, tearing it off and bringing it to her mouth.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (okay i know i just botched this roll in the other room, but... EMPATHY.)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Danicka Musil] [Danicka is hurt. The overriding vibe is just ow, but she also has some lingering anger. She feels humilated, and is growing more submissive now out of resignation.]
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas's smile is a little wan, and rather lopsided. "I suppose," he replies to Kate, "we'll find out come spring." A pause. Then, gently teasing, "If you really like it I'm sure Theron can find a way to build you a miniature at the Loft."

Humor fades, though. Warmth doesn't last long, this time of year, though paradoxically it makes him want to stay closer. He wants to stay close to his pack. He wants his pack to be close. He wants everything to be close, and warm, and secure tonight: mate and pack, all of it, as though by doing so he could shield himself from the weather, and the winter, and the cold.

As though he needed a shield. As though he were primitive, and an animal.

But he's not. And after another moment, he reaches out to his packmates, this time to grip Theron's shoulder briefly. Then he stands.

"I'll catch up with you guys later," he says. And he holds his hand out to Danicka. There's assurance in the gesture. The question, though, is in his eyes.

[Danicka Musil] She's chewing on that bite of bread slowly, tastelessly. There were things she wanted when she came here, a smile on her face to see the flames in the midst of the cold, to see the stars overhead through curling tendrils of smoke. There were hopes she had when she brought bread and cheese and wine to share with mate, with his packmates, with the fire and whatever gods or spirits might benefit from the gentle ritual sacrifice.

Or be amused by it.

The presence of the longhouse had pleased her. Shelter from the cold, from the darkness, and somehow wrapped up in the posts and the walls and the roof a bizarre feeling of promise. It's cold in here, and her overcoat is across a bench by the door, ignored. Her shoulders are bare, her winter-pale throat, and her cheeks and the tip of her nose are both pink from the exposure. Yet she does not shiver. Heat from the fire is near enough, the heat of rage is near enough, and the similarity between the two is obvious and fanciful.

There were things she wanted: to share mouthfuls of wine and simple food in peace, regardless of emotion, because tonight is the winter solstice. Because tonight is the longest night, the darkest vigil, and no one should be alone. Because peace does not always mean forgiveness, and civility is not always friendship, but they do not need to be.

Lukas wanted to be close to his pack and his mate, to gather them close to both protect and to be protected, to be warm and to be safe even as they rest in a longhouse built in part by a once-rival who is, at the moment, sleeping and breathing quietly on one of the benches with a blanket over his broadshouldered body. But he gets up after touching his tribe- and pack-mate's shoulder, reaching out then to the woman who is not really just kin to his tribe nor even remotely a member of his pack, who can neither be set aside like the one nor entirely brought in like the other.

She looks up at him, wreathed head lifting, and meets his eyes though her own don't hold any answer for his unspoken question. The black of her dress is stark against her skin, the dark of the leaves and dried flowers intense when laid over her golden hair. Nothing about her is regal, or royal, but there's a savage and ancient honor in her bearing that is brought to the fore by the way she's adorned herself.

He may remember her naked through the trees in summer. Or windblown and eating from a plate on his chest in autumn. Nothing quite like this, as though she does not quite belong in this time or place.

She does not want to take his hand, but she does, and her own is cold. She does not want to let him help her to her feet, but she does, using his strength as leverage she does not strictly need. She does not want to go with him, let him help her with her coat, speak to him, hear his voice, be peaceful, be civil, forgive.

But Danicka goes where he leads. Where he takes her.

[Theron Locke] He raised an eyebrow as he heard his name mention , having obviously missed the majority of the conversation.

Theron smiled at Lukas as he feels the hand on his shoulder. although he didn't turn. His eyes fixed on the door that Genevre had departed from