[Echo] At this hour of the morning her room mate has only just crashed for the night and is snoozing away the daylight hours. His No Moon roommate, however, has decided to seize upon these daylit hours for a change and use them to profit by securing herself pride of place in their new digs: room 8.
So by the time it strikes eight thirty AM, the Sentinels newest recruit has moved her boxing bag, posters of Mohammed Ali and her collected piles of clothing and other paraphernalia including a pilot's helmet and a chainsaw, into another room. She sat now, poster rehung, chainsaw set on pride of place on window ledge, laptop open on her bed, tapping away with the strains of Aerosmith blaring.
[Daniel Ingenssen] Amazingly, the third occupant of the room -- the other newest-recruit -- sleeps soundly, the noise of Echo's move-in notwithstanding. Daniel's own move-in was simple enough. He walked in and set his backpack down beside one of the beds. That was it. He left after that -- to find food, to familiarize himself with the city. To visit the caern.
Now the Forseti is sound asleep on his bed. He sleeps in all his clothes. And his shoes. There's a single blanket on the bed ... and he lies atop it.
When 8:30 strikes, though, Daniel's eye open like clockwork. He looks at the unfamiliar ceiling for a moment -- the first ceiling over his head for longer than he can remember -- and then he sits up quietly. Echo's presence gives him pause. After a while he calls quietly, as though experimentally:
"Good morning."
[Jeff Pyeon] At this hour of the morning, Jeff's long since been up - though, given how he's spent his weekend (starting Wednesday after work) he should probably still be in bed, maybe contemplating a first cup of coffee. Or maybe still hours from waking. Still, he's cheerful enough, for all that his impeccably stylish clothes are a little mussed (somehow it looks artful, arranged, rather than as if he spent anywhere between four and six hours on the road to get back here.
He hasn't been 'home' - because the new apartment doesn't get the quotes taken off until he's lived there . . . well, a while, given how much he tends to travel for work. It's good to be good at what he does, but it means he could be anywhere at any given time - since he left Thanksgiving dinner here, and now it's back here that he comes before there.
It's intriguing, this place, as are its denizens; as said before, his face time with Garou has been minimal. They're terrifying, in a way, even just in conceptualization, but are a bit of himself that he doesn't know that much about, and so, to that end, he intends to see what contacts he can make, and what he can pick up in the process.
Which isn't to say the money transfer's ended. He's good with that - and while some may not see it as help, an extra couple grand a month in various coffers is nothing to sneeze at.
He walks up the steps to blaring Aerosmith and hums along tunelessly. He's quiet-ish, doesn't want to wake anyone still sleeping (though, with the music up, it's possible everyone else is), nor does he want to sneak up on anyone. Bad things happen when you sneak up on Garou, and even other kin - he'd learned that even with his next to no exposure. Regardless, music pulls him along as he checks the place out.
[Echo] She must look quite a sight to Daniel.
Her hair shorn short so that it barely reaches her neck, the dark mass all tousled about her head in a boyish manner. Her computer drawn atop her lap as she taps away at it, her body naked but for the boy shorts and tank top she wears, both in navy blue, one knee drawn up, the other flat.
The poster on the Ragabash's wall is a capture of a boxing match mid fight, Mohammad Ali about to deliver a devastating blow to his opponent, a silver slashed autograph in one corner of the poster dedicating it to Echo, herself. There's a new addition to the room, as well. A boxing bag has been hung since Daniel went to bed, it hangs from a chain at the end of the Glass Walker's bed.
She doesn't glance at Daniel as he greets her, but rather taps a few keys on her computer and notes casually: "Oh hey, sorry if I woke you. I was hanging stuff."
[Daniel Ingenssen] Slowly, rather methodically, Daniel rubs one eye with the heel of his hand, then the other. He sits hunched in his bed, shoulders a little stooped. If Echo's seen others of his tribe, seen their boldness and pride that borders on arrogance, very little of that would ring familiar in Daniel. There's a quiet, intrinsic humbleness in him -- and more than that, a certain learned wariness in the way his eyes dart to her when she speaks.
She doesn't see any of this, though. Her back is turned; she's tapping on her keyboard. He shakes his head all the same.
"You didn't wake me." There's a very faint accent in his words, hard to place because it comes from more than one language. He doesn't come from around here. "I always wake around now."
Daniel gets up. Even his zip-up hoodie is still on, though at least now he and his change of clothes are clean. His other is in the washer, tumbling about. He stretches silently and subtly, flexing his muscles and relaxing them without actually raising his arms or extending his legs. He looks at her computer curiously.
"What is it you're doing?"
[Jeff Pyeon] He finds himself in a rather cozy room (the pool table draws special attention, and he feels the quality of its topper) as these things go, though he thinks it could probably use a little help - it's not bad per se, just . . . not what he'd consider great work. (Which could be read as not his, perhaps, but he'd never say so.) He can still hear music, coming from what he imagines must be one of the sleeping-rooms since there's no one in the common area, and so he wanders that way, down the hall and around the full circle surrounding the bathrooms.
[Daniel Ingenssen] (hm, jacqui fell off)
[Jeff Pyeon] (I'm patient. We can chill for a bit. =D )
[Daniel Ingenssen] The conversation with his packmate ends before long. Daniel isn't much of a converser, period. As Jeff is coming down the hall, the door to room 8 opens.
The man that steps out is rather unimpressive, so far as Garou went. Because he is Garou. That much is obvious. His rage is formidable, as strong as an Ahroun's, though he is not.
What he is, is rather lean. Narrow-shouldered, taut-cheeked, though with a certain deft grace of motion that's hard to overlook. He stands an inch or two under six feet in his worn old shoes. Everything about him is worn: his jeans, his hoodie, the shirt barely visible beneath it, his expression.
Everything but his eyes. Those are dark and keen, and look at Jeff curiously and carefully. Something about his regard brings to mind an animal.
"Hello," he says, after a pause.
[Daniel Ingenssen] (*just goes on w/o her*)
[Jeff Pyeon] There's blinking under that scrutiny; it's not something to which Jeff is accustomed. Or rather, he's used to being looked at, studied, assessed, and that part gives him no pause; he's doing the same, honestly, though there's an instinctive imperative to not quite meet the (monster) man's eyes.
Jeff is short - or, well, not quite short. But he's certainly not six feet tall, and is more likely somewhere around five foot eight or nine. And he is well dressed, if not quite as well pressed as he would be on a normal occasion; he looks like he just got out of his car after a long drive (and, in fact, he did).
"Hi," he says back, and then, after a moment of hesitation, he offers his hand. Not too keep; he'd very much like it back, when all is said and done. "I'm Jeff."
[Daniel Ingenssen] Daniel looks down at the proffered hand. After a moment he takes it. Something about his grip is off, as though he'd rarely, or perhaps never, shaken hands before.
"Hello," he says again. And then there's an awkward pause. "Who are you?"
[Daniel Ingenssen] -- as though the name meant little, in and of itself.
(*tacks on so it doesn't look like Dan is just deaf*)
[Jeff Pyeon] Again, there's blinking and hesitation as his hand comes back; both are then placed in his pockets, all casual relaxation that's anything but. "Jeff Pyeon . . . Oh. Glass Walker kin," he adds, as if he's had to do that as rarely as Daniel's shaken hands.
[Daniel Ingenssen] "Oh." Daniel frowns for a moment. "I haven't met very many Glass Walkers. But my new packmate is one.
"I'm Daniel. A Forseti." Another beat of pause. "A Half Moon of Fenris. And ... one of the Sentinels."
[Jeff Pyeon] Forseti gets a blank look, and half moon is only vaguely more comprehending - Jeff is quite obviously new to actually meeting and dealing with the True. "Is Sentinels the pack name, then?" It's all novelty.
And then, "Is Echo your packmate? She's the one I've talked to most."
[Daniel Ingenssen] A nod, silent. Daniel's eyes stay on Jeff, giving the kinsman his attention so completely that a human would be put off his ease. It's socially unacceptable to stare quite like that. In conversation, a human's eyes flicker about, touch here and there, return. Daniel's do not.
A moment later, another nod in response to the second question. "Are you her kin?"
[Jeff Pyeon] "No relation," he says with a shrug, though that's obvious - he's Asian, after all, and to look less like the Ragabash would be difficult. And yes, he is uneasy; his balance shifts from one foot to the other, and the hand in his right pocket fiddles with change or keys or something jingly.
"Other than that . . . I don't think so?"
[Daniel Ingenssen] The Forseti, other than his eyes, stands perfectly still. His head is cocked at a slight, curious angle. He blinks once, a camera-quick shuttering of his dark stare.
"I meant, are you her mate?"
[Jeff Pyeon] "Oh. No," he says, mildly amused. "I met her, like, a week ago, and moved here from Detroit about a week before that."
Give or take - he's been back and forth often enough that he's lost count, already, what with hockey tickets and tying up loose ends. "I don't have a mate."
[Daniel Ingenssen] ...which makes Daniel frown, somewhere between baffled and surprised. "But... how old are you?"
[Jeff Pyeon] There's a brief furrow of his brow; it seems an odd question, really, but maybe it's normal for the True? Goodness only knows. "Twenty-seven. Does that matter?"
[Daniel Ingenssen] Jeff doesn't know where Daniel comes from, of course, nor what sort of Sept it was, nor what kind of Garou inhabited it, nor how long back their traditions stretch. And Daniel, apparently, has little or no working knowledge of how the goddamn real world works.
He stares for another beat. Then the lean Forseti raises a hand to his stubbled cheek, rubbing for a moment, reaching around to knead the back of his neck in incredulity.
"Your tribe doesn't care? Have you at least sired children?"
[Jeff Pyeon] That gets a blink of surprise, whether about the tribe caring or the siring of children is unclear - it's probably both, honestly. And he's Glass Walker, of course; they're the closest of all the tribes to human, at least in most cases.
"Um. No? On both counts, so far as I know. No one's said anything in the case of the former, and . . ." Saying that he's careful in the case of the latter draws him up short - he has a feeling that might be a Bad Thing. So it's wrapped up in a shrug that indicates it just hasn't happened yet. "I will. It just hasn't happened yet."
[Daniel Ingenssen] At least there's this: there's no sense that Daniel is haranguing Jeff to make him uncomfortable. Or to make him feel bad. Or to deliberately belittle his worth, or fertility, or ability to find a mate, or -- any of that.
The Forseti, simply and astoundingly, seems to be utterly incapable of imagining a kin such as Jeff, 27 years old and without a single child, or cub, to his name.
"That is so strange," he says. This doesn't sound like an insult, either. "I know humans are like that, but ... " he trails off, thinks for a moment. "Am I being terribly rude?"
[Jeff Pyeon] "Some would think so," Jeff says with a sudden, quick grin; whether he does or not goes unsaid, and unbroadcast in posture or expression. There's the discomfort that goes along with being unaccustomed to the presence of Garou, but it's not so bad as it would be for the average human . . . because he's not. "I figure you're just not from around here, and it's better to get to know things right off the bat. As much as you can, anyway."
There's a pause, and then, a little puzzled, "But I am, right? Human, I mean. I never changed, and neither did either of my parents - last one who did in my family was a great grandpa on my dad's side, and further back than that on my mom's."
[Daniel Ingenssen] "Do you?" Daniel presses instantly, his eyes fast on the kinsman's face.
And, "No." There's no question in that. He shakes his head once for emphasis. "You're kin. That's different. You're half-blooded. If I cut a human and cut you, you would heal much faster. You withstand my rage. You can look upon a Garou in his true form without madness.
"You're much more than human."
[Jeff Pyeon] ".....oh." It's the last answered first, and that will likely require more thought on the matter; it had never come before, this thought, as there'd been no real need of it. He had noticed, of course, that he was sick far less than his friends were, even the ones who didn't get sick often, but when he'd broken his leg and the cast had come off a good week or two earlier than any one else he'd known with a similar fracture, he'd laughed and shrugged it off as good genes or similar.
He hadn't known how right he was.
But then there's the question of politeness, and Jeff's thoughtful for a minute. "I don't think you are for you. I mean, I don't know you well or anything, obviously, but you don't seem like a guy who's been around a lot of people that make things like everyday manners an issue. So . . . no, I guess not."
[Daniel Ingenssen] Daniel's eyes pierce Jeff for another moment. Then the Forseti nods. "Okay." And he shifts his balance, straightening a little. "Thanks."
With that, Daniel moves past Jeff, heading down the hall for the bathroom.
(i'm losing all coherence here! *LOL*)
[Jeff Pyeon] "You're welcome. Hey, if you wouldn't mind, tell Echo I stopped in?"
And Daniel's heading for the bathroom, so Jeff finishes his circuit of the hallway and heads out, off to do whatever it is he does with his days.
terribly rude.
ready.
[Broken Hammer] The kitchen window explodes inward in a shower of glass. The creature that leaps in is lean and dark; in the turmoil, it's not even entirely certain what he is, much less what side he's on.
With a snarl, he immediately turns on the nearest Wyrmspawn with claw and tooth.
[Face of Death] Joey was not at The Brotherhood when her alpha came searching for her. When Charlie's voice cut across the link she was on the southside of town, admiring the lights of Chinatown. But when her brother's thought voice gave a location, she fired of Cassius and raced across the city to get to that location.
She rumbles to a hasty stop outside the tenement house, grabs her bat bag off the back seat and hurries inside, seeking out her brothers.
When she finds them in combat, she immediately shifts from pretty young blonde to towering dire wolf. She calls on the gift that numbs her body to pain. And she leaps gladly into the fray.
[1R snapshit to Hispo, 1 WP activate Resist Pain]
[Face of Death] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8
[Broken Hammer] (+9)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Hatchet and Charlie gain back 1R. Echo and Hatchet gain back 1 WP.
Damage Tally
Charlie: OK, immobilized for 1 more round
Echo: OK
Hatchet: 2A
Lambert: OK
Brett: OK
Ash: OK
Kane: 3A
Parker: Dead
Dallas: Dead
ROUND TWO -- FIGHT!
Daniel: 18
Joey: 17
Echo: 17
Hatchet: 15
Ash: 12
Charlie: 12, Mind Blasted
Kane: 11
Lambert: 10
Brett: 7
Declare in reverse! Weeeooo!]
[Lights Out] [Brett
1a: Claw Daniel.
1b: Claw Daniel Again!
1c: Oh what the hell. Keep clawing!
Lambert
1a: Bite Echo.
1b: Bite Echo Again!
Kane
1a: Bite Charlie.
1b: Bite Charlie Again!
1c: Oh what the hell. Keep biting!
Charlie
1a: I'm gonna roll around on the floor for a bit, k?
Ash
1a: Mind Blast on... oh... new guy!]
[Buried Hatchet] [Reflexive: Repeat for Echo to focus on Kane til he DED, this time with 30% more dominant jaw-snapping.
1a. Turn around
1b. Bite Kane's eyes, blind
R1. Bite Kane if he's still up, Lambert if he's not
R2. Bite Lambert]
[End Transmission] [Reflexive: "Who the fuck is that guy? Hey Joey! Roger, Dodger!"
1a. Bite Kane
1b. Bite Kane
R1. Bite Kane unless he's dead, then it's on with Lambert]
[Face of Death] [split: bite/bite Brett, takin' him from behind]
[Broken Hammer] [1WP - resist pain
1a.
b.
R1.
R2. --all bites. Will begin with Kane, move on to Lambert if Kane dies, then Brett.]
[Broken Hammer] [1a!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2
[Broken Hammer] (damage! +2)
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 5, 9, 10 (Failure at target 6)
[Broken Hammer] 1b!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 7, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)
[Broken Hammer] damage +2!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 5, 5, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Broken Hammer] (err... +2)
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 6, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5) Re-rolls: 3
[Broken Hammer] (damage +3 more)
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 4, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Kane
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Face of Death] [1a: Bite Brett: dex + brawl - 2, diff - 2 (rear attack)]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 6 at target 3)
[Face of Death] [damage: str + 2 + 5]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 9 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Brett
Nooo I want to liiive!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Face of Death] [1b: Bite Brett: dex + brawl - 3, diff - 2 (rear attack)]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 5, 7 (Success x 4 at target 3)
[Face of Death] [damage: str + 2 + 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 6, 6, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Brett
YOUBITCH.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[End Transmission] [Bite Kane! -2 Split]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)
[End Transmission] [Damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 8 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Kane
Nooo I want to liiiive!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 5, 8, 9 (Failure at target 6)
[End Transmission] [Bite Lambert! GRR, ARGH! -3 Split]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5)
[End Transmission] [Damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)
[End Transmission] [Soak +1!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Buried Hatchet] [1a. Changing action to bite Lambert. Dex + Brawl -2 (split)]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 3 at target 5)
[Lights Out] [Lambert
Eep!]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 5 (Failure at target 6)
[Buried Hatchet] [Damage: EAT IT.]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Buried Hatchet] [1b. Changing action to HUNTING DOWN ASH.]
[Lights Out] [Ash
-1 WP
1a: Alertness+Wits: Changing Target. Mind Blast on Hatchet.]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 6, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Buried Hatchet] [Willpower -1]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Buried Hatchet] [R1. Bite Ash: Dex + Brawl]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Buried Hatchet] [Damage: HAHAHAHA I LIKE EATING BAD GUYS TO DEATH.]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Ash
Ack!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 2, 4 (Failure at target 6)
[Broken Hammer] Rage 2, chomp!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 7, 7, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 11 at target 5) Re-rolls: 5
[Broken Hammer] (damage +10, part 1)
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Broken Hammer] (and two!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Buried Hatchet] Earlier tonight when Hatchet and Charlie sought Joey, she was too far to get to them right away. When she lunges into the fray, she hears Hatchet roaring an order to the only other conscious member of the fight, and almost at the exact same moment, glass shatters and a third hispo-formed werewolf drops into their midst. Rage and wariness flare across the totemlink, but the Philodox is too busy to stop and ask questions.
When the grayfaced fomori -- or whatever they are -- drop finally, Hatchet tears across the distance to the last one standing in the living room, the dark-furred newcomer hot on his heels. In two rapid-fire bites they tear the thing into three large chunks, his head splatting on the ground in front of Broken Hammer and his entrails spilling onto the floor at Buried Hatchet's forepaws.
The massive golden-eyed dire wolf turns on Daniel then, his thick gray fur standing on end. He looks as though he's brushed with blood, looks like iron beginning to rust at the tips. He is not panting. He cocks his head to one side, leans forward, and sniffs questioningly. When he pulls his muzzle back, he emits a low growl of mingled wariness and gratitude, then jerks his head towards the other room.
He goes to Charlie and nudges him with his snout, saying only
Whuff.
Hatchet is bleeding, but not profusely, and he doesn't seem to notice. He looks over the others, but seeing no one limping or leaking vital organs, he moves on as soon as Charlie starts to stir, turning again to Daniel. The sound he makes is a rumble, much like the one in the other room but given more clarity and shape to say, essentially:
"Who?"
[Broken Hammer] (percep/alert!)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 6, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Face of Death] Joey rushes in through the back door, and without waiting for orders, without waiting to assess the status of her brothers or Echo, she sinks her teeth into the closest fomor. In two quick snaps of her jaws, it drops to the ground. Blood stains the fur of her face, ripples down the sides of her throat. When it drips along the bare skin of her scar, it feels weird. Like it should tickle but simply...doesn't.
She shakes her head violently to get it off, and looks around. There is Hatchet, seeing to Charlie. There is Echo. There is someone new.
While Hatchet questions the newcomer, Joey moves across the room to brush her shoulder against the Fostern of her auspice.
[Broken Hammer] As soon as the last fomori(?) is down the stranger stands rigid, tense, listening. No celebration, no joy, nothing at all -- just awareness. Seconds pass. Then he turns, fluid of motion, lean of body. He has no breeding to speak of; his fur is dappled grey black white and brown, the same as a thousand other wild wolves.
"Broken Hammer. Half Moon, Cliath, shamed son of Fenris." His tail is held low, wary now.
[End Transmission] As soon as all the grayfaces are down, End Transmission swings her bloodied snout around, her chest heaving with the exhilaration of battle, her claws stained with blood and gore and rumbles a noise of innate satisfaction toward Face of Death, her fellow No Moon. The Glass Walker watches for the stirring of the Metis as the Fianna bounds across the space to ask who the newcomer was, exactly.
When Joey brushes her shoulder against Echo's in camaraderie, she gets bumped in return, in addition to a snuffle clearly intended as approval.
[Lights Out] Lights Out is having a terrible night.
He goes down almost immediately, his Rage flaring up like a fire doused with gasoline, in too much pain to roar or snarl or do anything other than curl up on himself and wait for the blinding pain to end. The kitchen is large, but with the number of dire wolves and war machines in the room, there is not much room to maneuver. Fomori stack up like firewood, glass shatters, blood drenches the floor, and when it's over, he's left shaking and somewhat embarrassed but better off than Buried Hatchet or End Transmission.
Hatchet nudges his brother with his great snout. Lights Out is able to move, but it is not pain that has him shaking so violently: it's his Rage. He has a Gibbous Moon's anger riding his shoulders right now, but he does not lash out at his Alpha or push him away. He just climbs to his feet.
As the carnage comes to a halt, as claws cease flying and fangs stop snapping, they become aware of movement upstairs. Floorboards shriek with terrible weight, dust flits down from the ceiling, and heavy, ominous footsteps sound out on the stairwell dumping into the living room.
It might have been human once. It might have had a family, a career, hopes and dreams, but right now it's nothing more than a reminder of how the Wyrm corrupts absolutely, how even the most normal of lives can become twisted and warped by forces beyond the comprehension of those the five of them fight to protect without the masses' knowing. Were they outside, it would dwarf Lights Out and End Transmission; it has to stoop slightly, its great, flabby shoulders scraping against the ceiling. Its hair is stringy and caked with pus and blood, its hands bearing swords where its fingers ought to be, its eyes red and sunken in its skull. It has an extra set of arms. It is impossible to tell whether it is male or female. In the end, it doesn't really matter.
The smell of death presses down on them like a giant hand, and when it opens its mouth, it looses a deep-throated, inhuman giggle, preparing to swipe at the shamed son of Fenris.
[Iniiiiits!]
[Face of Death] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2
[Broken Hammer] 9
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3 (Failure at target 6)
[Buried Hatchet] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7
[End Transmission] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2
[End Transmission] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5
[Lights Out] [Charlie, +7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7
[Face of Death] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1
[Lights Out] [Ripley, +8]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6
[Lights Out] [ROUND ONE -- FIGHT!
Hatchet: 16
Echo: 14
Ripley: 14
Charlie: 14
Daniel: 12
Joey: 10
Declare in reverse order. Everyone except for Daniel needs to devote part of an action to crossing distance. It is physically impossible to get behind her without doing something fancy: you may fight her face on or flanked only. Go go go go!]
[Buried Hatchet] [Reflexive: Bark at Joey and Echo to flank Ripley]
[Face of Death] [1a: move to flank Ripley
1b: CHOMP
R: CHOMP again!]
[Broken Hammer] (1a. targeted bite: wrist of the swiping hand
b. same!
R1. bite whatever there is to bite
R2. again!)
[Lights Out] [Charlie
1a: Run run run!
1b: Claw Ripley
1c: Claw Ripley again!
Ripley
1a: Claw Daniel.
1b: Claw Charlie.
R1: Claw Hatchet.]
[End Transmission] [1a. Flank Ripley
1b. Bite Ripley!
R1. Bite Again!]
[Buried Hatchet] [1a. Close distance
1b. Blind Ripley (WP)
R1. Bite
R2. Bite!]
[Buried Hatchet] [1b. You don't need those eyes. Fr srs.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 6, 6, 7 (Failure at target 7) [WP]
[End Transmission] [1a. I'mma flank ya!
b. Bite 'er! -3 Split -1 (flanking)]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 6, 6 (Success x 3 at target 4)
[End Transmission] [Damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Ripley
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[End Transmission] [Soak +1]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Ripley
1a: Brawl+Dexterity: Claw Daniel. -2 pool (split).]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 5, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Damage: Strength +2 (claws) +1 (suxx).] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Broken Hammer] (soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Ripley
1b: Brawl+Dexterity: Claw Charlie. -3 pool (split).]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Damage: Strength +2 (claws) +4 (suxx).] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Charlie
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Charlie
1a: Run run run!
1b: Brawl+Dexterity: Claw! -3 pool (split).]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Damage: Strength +1 (Bear) +4 (Crinos) +0] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Ripley
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Face of Death] [1a: I'm runnin'!
1b: Bite: dex + brawl - 3, diff - 1 (flank attack)]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 6, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 4)
[Face of Death] [damage: str + 2 + 4]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 6, 6, 8, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Ripley
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Buried Hatchet] [R1. Dex + Brawl. Fine. Keep your eyes. I don't care.]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 6, 6, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5) Re-rolls: 3
[Buried Hatchet] [Damage! HA! BUT NOT YOUR HEAD.]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Ripley
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 8 (Failure at target 6)
[Buried Hatchet] [Soak +1]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Face of Death] [Belated soaky]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 4, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Broken Hammer] 1a. chomp! +2 diff, targeting main hand (if she has one)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7) Re-rolls: 2
[Broken Hammer] (damage +2)
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Ripley
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Broken Hammer] countersoak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Broken Hammer] 1b. chomp another one!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Broken Hammer] damage +3
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Broken Hammer] countersoak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Ripley
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Echo
R1: Bite! -1 diff (flank)]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 4)
[Lights Out] [Damage: Strength +4 (Crinos) +4 (suxx).] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Ripley
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 7, 10 (Failure at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Echo
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Ripley
Reflexive: 1R to ignore stun.
R1: Brawl+Dexterity: Claw Hatchet! -2 pool (wound penalty), +1 diff ('off' hand).]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 5, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[Lights Out] [Damage: Strength +2 (claw) +2 (suxx).] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Buried Hatchet] [Soak +1]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 6, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Face of Death] [R: Bitey: dex + brawl, diff -1]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 6 at target 4)
[Face of Death] [damage: str + 2 + 5]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Ripley
Shit!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 6, 6, 6, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Face of Death] [soaky]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Buried Hatchet] [R2: BITEY]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Buried Hatchet] [Damage. I like the way you move.]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Ripley
Shit!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 6, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Broken Hammer] rage 1!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 8 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Broken Hammer] 7
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Ripley
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Broken Hammer] rage 2!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Broken Hammer]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Broken Hammer] (countersoak +1)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Broken Hammer] (countersoak +2)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Lights Out] [Ripley
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Lights Out] The fight is over in a matter of seconds. The Fomor is the size of a Garou in its war form, is tougher than the half dozen creatures the lot of them just dispatched, but though only three of them are packed, they work together as a unit to tear through the thing's limbs, to spill its innards and splash its blood and remove its limbs. Whoever he is, the newcomer shows his worth in battle: it is his teeth that end the fight, and all without a single one of them suffering ill effects from the putrid rot suffusing the creature's flesh.
When she collapses, several hundred pounds of fat and muscle falling forward, the males step out of the way. The metis, now that the fight is over, has nothing to concentrate on to channel his Rage, to focus his anger. His respirations come in snarling bursts, but he is not completely out of control.
They have seven bodies to dispose of, all of them hideously deformed and tainted, and a twenty-minute police response time on their sides.
[Buried Hatchet] The Fianna leading the others -- presumably, given that he seems to know all of them, carries himself with the weight and self-possession of rank, and happens to be barking orders hither and yon -- dances backward out of the way when the last creature falls to the ground with a floor-shuddering thud. He spits tainted blood and traces of poisoned pus out of his mouth, shakes his head and shakes out his fur, and looks around at those he knows, and the one he just met.
A moment later there's the crack and grind of bones shifting, the rustle of clothing returning and fur vanishing, as he shifts into glabro. His boots, jeans, and hoodie grow back to accomodate his form, and he turns to Daniel, seeing that his packmates are in good health and the Fostern Glass Walker is not even as badly hurt as he is.
Hatchet's eyes are silver in this form, ringed with yellow. He holds out one hairy-knuckled hand, the fingernails long and ragged and sharp, his palm up.
"My name is Buried Hatchet," he says, his voice a bass snarl that booms slightly on rounder vowels as though restraining a roar, "Fostern Fianna Philodox, Alpha of the Sentinels of Bear. These are my packmates, Lights Out and Laughs in the Face of Death. This is our friend, End Transmission, Glass Walker Ragabash of my rank."
A beat. "Thank you. If you will let me, I will heal the wounds you've taken fighting alongside us. And regardless of that, Chicago's finest will probably be here in about fifteen minutes, so if you're not opposed to chopping up bodies and sticking them in dumpsters and hauling trophies in Joey's car, we'll show you to the Caern."
[End Transmission] When the last of the Formor fall like a flabby, over sized tree-trunk full of pus and contaminated blood that begins to ooze out of its various wounds, the Glass Walker emits a resounding hah! from her throat that is equal parts victory and growl, she delivers the body one last resounding kick before she turns to the Fenrir beside her that had flanked the beast and smacks their claws together in celebration.
Then, Echo Quinn is deftly leaping down to join the others and greets Broken Hammer with a nod up as her body changes form, and dedicated clothing swarms to cover her figure. In another moment she is simply a young woman with cropped dark hair and a bloody mouth that she wipes off with a corner of her hand. "Sup," she says in a New Yorker's strong drawl, before grinning with shameless appreciation. "Nice moves!"
[Broken Hammer] Deftly, the stranger sidesteps the falling colossus. When the proverbial dust settles, he immediately and automatically begins the Rite of Cleansing. He has no apparent expectation that anyone else might do the same, or help.
It's not the ritual they're used to, widdershins circles and willow branches. Broken Hammer rises into Crinos, pierces his palm with his claws, and then begins flinging blood-droplets onto the bodies with short, efficient chops of his handpaw. The ritual is performed flawlessly but rather methodically and uninvestedly, like a veteran priest offering absolution.
He pauses only when addressed, whipping around as though surprised to find them still there. His ears fold back when congratulations are offered; his eyes flick between the Fosterns when Echo leaps down, and Buried Hatchet moves toward him. There's wary defensiveness in every line of his body. Then the Fostern extends his handpaw. Broken Hammer's grey-dappled muzzle drops; he looks at it as though he doesn't comprehend. But when Hatchet gives his introduction, the Forseti's ears prick.
"Bear told me I would find your pack here." He takes the offered handpaw, gripping firm at the wrist. "I would appreciate healing, Rhya."
[Buried Hatchet] [HAEL PLZ]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 1)
[Lights Out] [SHOW OFF]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 4, 7, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 6 at target 3)
[Face of Death] The Fostern No Moon akwardly thumps the Cliath, which knocks the Fenrir off her stride. She rocks a little to the side, but when she looks up at the towering Crinos, her jaw is agape, tongue lolling, dark eyes dancing.
Joey doesn't waste time dancing over the bodies of the fallen. She begins tugging the bodies into a pile as best as she can, centralizing them for the cleansing. This is what she does. Not because she's lowest ranked, not because she's newest to the pack, but because she can and it needs to be done. When the bodies are arranged in their pile of filth and poison, Joey shifts down.
Following the lead of her alpha, she stops at her near-woman form. It's only in this form that she is the same height as her brothers in Homid. Her blonde hair is shaggy and falls into her face. Her clothes adjust to fit around her, and she reaches into her bat bag for the things she needs to cleanse the tainted bodies.
[Charisma + rituals]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)
[End Transmission]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 7 (Failure at target 7)
[End Transmission] [Aw, come on. What about 1 little suxx?]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 7 (Success x 1 at target 8) [WP]
[Lights Out] When the metis abandons his birth form, burning through the Rage that swelled up behind his breastbone when that burst of mental energy sent him crashing to the floor several minutes ago, he reveals himself to be a tall, skinny man somewhere in the nebulous 20s, wearing blood-stained clothing and dark smudges under his eyes. There is an otherworldliness about him that speaks of heightened spiritual awareness. Sparing him a glance would almost instantly insert the word Theurge into a person's mind; then again, some people look at him and think Bone Gnawer or Child of Gaia, too.
Buried Hatchet introduces himself and his packmates, their friend, as Lights Out tilts his head one way, then the other, to cause his vertebrae to crackle. His eyes take in the blood on his brother's bloody, the glistening of fresh wounds on his body, and he reaches out a hand not to mimic as he had out on the sidewalk, but to envelope the older man with warmth, to knit his body back together. He does it without a word, and when it's over, he steps back, pushing the sleeves of his damp sweatshirt up to his elbows and helping the women with the cleanup of corpses.
[Broken Hammer] Broken Hammer flexes his healed arm experimentally. Then he steps back, getting out of the way as Face to Death moves to finish what he began. He doesn't protest.
He simply returns to Homid form. It's the first time any of them have seen him like this. Broken Hammer is an inch or two under six, with a sort of quick, sinewy, close-to-the-bone toughness to his frame. His sandy hair is cut close to his head; his jaw is scruffy, and his eyes are dark and watchful.
His clothes smell like they haven't been washed for a long time. He smells like he hasn't bathed for a long time. He also smells like blood and rage and vengeance right now.
[Buried Hatchet] What Daniel says makes Hatchet's eyebrows flick upward. Bear told him. They lower again, and he takes another step forward, putting his palm on the Fenrir's wrist and squeezing once. Immediately, heat rushes up Daniel's arm as though he held it close to an open oven. For a moment, he feels overpoweringly sleepy, until that intense warmth hits his heart, his core. The drowsiness of winter is followed by a sudden rush of alertness as the wounds on his body close in what seems like the blink of an eyelash.
He can cleanse. He does not, right now. Daniel began, Joey steps in, and Echo goes to help. Hatchet doesn't take his eyes off the Fenrir, though. The new one. A moment after he sees the wounds close, he removes his hand from the other half-moon and drops it back to his side.
Charlie is at his side a moment later, and Hatchet's chest rises noticably as he breathes in, his eyes flickering with some hazy reaction that never makes it into clear expression or spoken word. He sighs quietly as he exhales, pushes up his sleeves with a nod, and begins dismantling corpses with the others.
Perhaps ten minutes later, a little less, Joey slams the trunk of her car closed on top of a stack of trophies ripped from fallen bodies. Echo, Charlie, Hatchet and Daniel return from various alleyways, various dumpsters. Interesting things were done with the garbage disposal in the tenement they just left. Someone found a furnace downstairs. Seven bodies have been dismembered, destroyed, turned unrecognizable as possible, leaving a collection of fangs and arms and heads and whathaveyou inside of Cassius, wrapped in black plastic bags from under the kitchen sink.
The Camaro is not nearly big enough for five people. Hatchet is in his birth form again, his hands scrubbed of as much blood as he could get off of them in the building, his hood flipped back off his face. He looks at Joey and Charlie. "Would the two of you give Echo a ride back? I'm going to show Broken Hammer the Caern and the Brotherhood," he says, with a jerk of his head at the Fenrir.
[Face of Death] Joey, in Homid, is back to being the smallest of the gathered. Everything is cleaned and clared to the best of their ability.
Hatchet asks them to take Echo back to The Brotherhood. There's a flash of white in the semi-darkness of the night when Joey grins at her alpha, and nods her head. Her eyes travel to the Fenrir. She swallows, and the smile fades. Shamed he'd said. Though the Rotagar burns with curiosity, she keeps it at bay. It's likely she'll find out soon enough. The sept is almost unnervingly gossipy.
Joey climbs into her beloved green car and waits for the others to settle themselves where they will. The engine roars to life, quiets into a rumbling purr, and she throws the car into gear.
[Broken Hammer] As the others depart, Broken Hammer steps out of their way. It's not the cringing, automatic deferrence of a Bone Gnawer or a Metis; it's something closer to guardedness, a sort of learned defense.
When they're gone, he looks to Hatchet, waiting for him to lead the way. Without question or protest he falls in beside the Fostern, zipping his hoodie up and slipping his hands into the pockets. The rather dour young man's face is streaked with blood. In battle, he was every inch a Fenrir, vicious and snapping. Afterward, he's quiet, alert, a little stoop-shouldered, but with a curious feral grace in his step.
[Buried Hatchet] It makes sense: the others know one another, have fought together more than once, are already pack or seem like they're headed that direction.
Hatchet keeps his hood off his face, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. When he begins to walk, he walks with the long, easy stride of someone used to hours upon hours on the road. Days upon days. He walks with a certain intimacy with travel, and for a block or two, he maintains a silence that, for him at least, seems comfortable.
"So Bear told you about us, huh?"
[Buried Hatchet] It makes sense that Daniel steps aside as he does: the others know one another, have fought together more than once, are already pack or seem like they're headed that direction. He's the newcomer. He's the odd one out. In a sense.
Hatchet keeps his hood off his face, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. When he begins to walk, he walks with the long, easy stride of someone used to hours upon hours on the road. Days upon days. He walks with a certain intimacy with travel, and for a block or two, he maintains a silence that, for him at least, seems comfortable.
"So Bear told you about us, huh?"
[Broken Hammer] Broken Hammer nods, a quick jerk of his head. "Nh-hnh." That's all the answer for a while. Then, as though realizing this is a conversation and there are rules for such things, he adds, "In Canada. In the wild. After I was alone for a long time."
Pause. "Do you want to know? What I did?"
[Buried Hatchet] He glances over and down at Daniel when he mentions Canada, then looks forward again. "I think," he says slowly, "that you want me to know. So tell me what you did. And then tell me why it's important to you to say it aloud to me."
[Broken Hammer] Broken Hammer doesn't hunch his shoulders, duck his head; anything of the sort. His shame is etched deeper than that, in the subtle microexpressions of his otherwise unchanging face.
"I was a Hand of Tyr," he says. There's no beauty in his prose. He just ... says it. "I was born and raised in the Sept of the Seventh Isle, born to Fenris, born to the Hand. We hunt -- they hunt the guilty, sinners and criminals who have escaped their just retribution.
"There were killings in Québec City eighteen months ago. Young human females. Unspeakable things were done to the victims. The mortal authorities were useless. I tracked my quarry to his lair and found there a Garou of the Sept, a dead woman at his feet. I was enraged at the betrayal. He protested his innocence, told me he'd slain my prey for me. I did not believe him. I executed him, cut vengeance into his flesh, left his corpse for carrion-spirits, and buried the woman with my own hands.
"Later the Godi and Forseti of the Sept uncovered the truth. He was innocent. I was blind with wrath and vengeance, and I did ... unspeakable things."
Eyes on the street ahead, Broken Hammer shrugs his shoulders.
"For my sins, my deedname and ancestry were taken. I became Broken Hammer. And I wanted to tell you because everyone should know, beginning with the Alpha of the pack I've come here to seek. I will not hide from shame or truth. Or justice."
[Buried Hatchet] For what it's worth -- and to some, it's worth a great deal -- Hatchet listens. He has his hands in his hoodie's pockets, his hair exposed to the night air and the light but icy wind. He keeps his eyes forward to watch where he is going, but there's no sense that his attention isn't given to the Forseti. He's walking somewhere, but he's walking with Daniel right now.
He notes the change from 'we' to 'they'. He notes that Daniel calls what the murderer did to the victims 'unspeakable', that he uses the same word to describe his own desecration of an innocent Garou's corpse. He bears it in mind as they walk on, footsteps barely audible against the concrete of the sidewalk.
Neither of them look at each other.
Hatchet's quiet for awhile. Daniel doesn't know what he was like last year when he first came to this city, or the difference between how he was with others and how he was with packmates. He doesn't know what happened over spring and summer, the deaths and the losses, the half-dozen or more challenges to oversee every moot, the gnashed teeth in his direction as he tried to hold onto what was left of his sanity... which he can't recall ever being entirely solid. He does not know that many in Chicago would be surprised at Hatchet's considering silence. He doesn't know that this, actually, is closer to who the man is than anything that's been seen of him since the beginning of the year.
"I am a charach," he says after awhile, without the perhaps expected gravitas the confession deserves. He says it almost lightly. It's no more complicated than this: the truth. "Joey is a fool by immature choices as well as moon even if she is stellar in battle. Charlie is a metis, more convinced of his own worthlessness than anyone who has seen his worth as a Theurge. We have already been abandoned by one of our orginal packbrothers, for reasons he didn't see fit to share with us." He glances over and down at the other Half-Moon. "We are hardly the pack, and I am hardly the Alpha, to try and judge you, or look down on you, for something you've already been punished for. Answered for."
That seems to be that.
His eyes go forward again. "So did you come here to join us?"
[Broken Hammer] The lean Forseti's head whips around when Buried Hatchet says, I am a charach. His eyes are wide for a moment; then, as Hatchet goes on to list the sins of his pack, his brow pulls into the furrow it's been set in since this conversation began.
He, too, listens. And he, too, is silent when Hatchet is over. A question is asked. Daniel still seems to be on the previous topic, mulling it over, considering it, digesting it.
Bear hadn't told him this; any of it. Whatever Bear did tell him, whatever slow, thunderous impression-words filled his mind there in the northern wilderness, it had not been specifics. Not who, not what, not even a name or an impression of a face. Merely comfort. Merely strength. Merely healing, and the undeniable imperative:
My children. There. Go.
Crossing the Canadian-U.S. border a week later, Daniel, without a passport or a driver's license or so much as the ability to operate a car, did not walk, did not ride, did not come across by legal means. He swam across the St. Mary's River under cover of night, stroke by stroke in the frigid water that stabbed into his blood and bones, froze his body, strained his heart. There were easier ways. He could have easily run across on land, penumbrally. He could have begged the use of a Moonbridge. He swam not because he had to, but because he wanted to.
He does not know why this occurs to him now, and he sets it aside.
Daniel sorts through his thoughts, then, little by little. He peels the surprise from its source; understands that he's surprised because Hatchet announced these sins so uncomplicatedly, so readily. He looks for disappointment and finds none. He wonders if he should be aghast, appalled, disgusted, disappointed; any of the things his ancestors may have been. He wonders what in the world would give him the right to such things, or ever did.
Then he nods once. And twice more, in quick succession.
[Buried Hatchet] It's a wonder that most Philodoxes don't have permanently warped features by the time they're twenty-five for all the frowning they do, all the headaches they end up getting.
Hatchet speaks like one who knows what little he and his pack have to offer the Garou who seeks renown, who seeks the honor and acclaim of his septmates. He knows very well what joining this pack means, what following Bear means, what gets sacrificed by those who choose to follow his lead. He knows of the rumors that the child Soledad is carrying is his; a ridiculous idea, but not a rumor he needs to stamp out. The birth of the cub will be proof enough that it was sired by a kinsman and not her former Alpha. He tells Daniel that he will be following a Litany-breaker, and one of an auspice sworn to uphold their laws.
No illusions. They all know how little they have to offer most Garou.
But they do have this: their hands can heal. Their touch reminds one of Gaia, of mothers known on earth, of the earth itself. Their voices over their totemlink ring like a roar, like a rumble, like snuffling warmth. They give an oddly parental comfort, as difficult as that is for them to embody when two out of the three packmates know they cannot ever have children of their own. They are strong, and Daniel has seen it tonight. They are Bear's children, sons and daughters of a disgraced spirit as slow to anger as she is to backing down when it comes to protecting what is hers.
"All right, then," Hatchet says quietly, after Daniel nods. "We'll see the Ritesmistress soon. I'll let the others know." A pause. "We've been treating Echo as a sister already. She'll be joining with you, unless she refuses."
[Broken Hammer] Another flicker of surprise; uncertainty. "Just like that? Don't you want to test -- "
The Forseti breaks off, and then he adds another ten years' worth of stress to his frown lines. It's directed at himself. A moment later he nods again.
"I'll be ready."
[Buried Hatchet] He lifts an eyebrow. The question was unfinished, but that hardly means he doesn't understand what it wanted to be. Hatchet glances at him again, that eyebrow up, and keeps his eyes on Daniel for a few paces. "Bear asks very little of us. We sacrifice our reputations for the sake of her purpose." He's quiet a second, and looks forward again. "Deciding to follow Bear is a test of your fitness for the pack.
"And as for whether or not you'll mesh with us as a group, on that all I can do is trust my instinct."
[Broken Hammer] Broken Hammer considers it a moment. When he nods again, it's firmer than the last quick series. "Okay." He looks back at the taller Half-Moon for a moment. By moonlight and streetlight his eyes are bottomlessly dark; the nordic slant of eye orbits give his face a permanently sad look. But his jaw is lean and strong, set, and neither Fenrir nor Bear ever took to weaklings.
He repeats, "I'll be ready."
[Buried Hatchet] They were never more than a few blocks from the Brotherhood of Thieves tonight, which is itself not very far from the Caern, the edges of the bawn. Hatchet can see familiar bits of the neighborhood, can pick out the angles and the corners of the building he's lived in for the vast majority of the past year.
"Maelstrom, the totem of the sept, demands a sacrifice from those who stay to protect the caern," he tells him, a few moments after Daniel's repetition. "Be ready for that, too."
They turn a corner, and he nods ahead. "This is the Brotherhood of Thieves. The restaurant downstairs is open to the public, but the proprietors are Kinfolk. The second floor is sort of... a dormitory. Kin and Garou alike live there. It is shared territory, but the Sentinels keep the spirit wards on the place, make the kin fetch talens for the employees, and patrol the penumbra and physical realm to keep it safe."
He half-smirks, a bit tiredly. "Like tonight."
[Broken Hammer] "I know," Broken Hammer replies when chiminage is spoken of. "I'm ready."
The Brotherhood, then: the second floor still ablaze with lights even at this hour. Daniel looks up at it, studying its shape and features, its corners, its proportions. Then, and rather abruptly, he smiles at Hatchet. It's small and quirky, close-lipped, but it's genuine. One supposes Daniel wouldn't be capable of any other sort of smile.
"Okay," he says again. "I'll stay here too, then. Thanks for showing me, Rhya. And -- " a little awkward, " -- for the offer of packhood."
[Buried Hatchet] Hatchet's smiles are looser, but they come no easier. They may even be less sincere. He walks with Daniel right to the edge of the alleyway but hangs back, rather than going around to the darkened entrance into the kitchen. "I'm in Room One," he adds. "Charlie's in Room Three with Echo. Joey's in Room Seven with her former packmate. There's got to be an empty bed somewhere."
And one of those smiles slides across his face, slow and weary. He nods towards the door. "I'll see you soon, Daniel."
He turns to go, either to go meet his packmates at the Caern or to continue a patrol or begin a new one. His hands are still in his pockets, except for the moment where he flips one over his head. Whatever he said about choosing to join Bear being its own test, and despite the fact that his back is turned, he leaves the Forset with the sense that he's being watched nonetheless. Or watched over.
Though that may just be his imagination.