Daniel Broken Hammer

[Broken Hammer] Garou combat is not like a formal martial art. There are no katas to run through; no bags to punch. The only way one learns is by fighting against another.

That's why Broken Hammer and Height of Mountains are in one of the abandoned hangars now, warformed, snapping at one another. Snarls and growls and short, savage barks are audible from a good distance away.

Broken Hammer is not faring well against the Guardian -- though perhaps one would hope this is the case. The more compact Fenrir, well-battered already, lunges for the throat; the Guardian brings up his arm, takes the bite on the meat of his forearm, seizes the Forseti by the throat; sweeps the leg, bears him down and pins him.

Broken Hammer bares his throat, whuffing in frustration. Height of Mountains gets back to his feet, offering a handpaw to pull the other up. Unsurprisingly, Broken Hammer only seizes it for a moment as a show of respect, then releases it again and rises on his own power.

"OK," Height of Mountains says, reverting to his rather affable, gangly homid form. "Break's over. I gotta get back to patrols."

"Rhya," responds Broken Hammer. Left behind, the Forseti rolls a shoulder, then drops to all fours and shakes out his fur.

[End Transmission] A wolf whistle cuts through the hanger as the two Garou cease their tussling.

End Transmission, sitting, legs dangling on a pile of stacked crates is applauding her pack-mate and the Guardian himself for winning the fight. There's a bag of opened chips beside her, and she's quite possibly not alone, either. She's been spending time with the new Fianna Cub, Grace.

"Nice work, boys! Clearly a 9.5 on the brawl chart!"

[Until Death] They have an audience.

She'd been lured by the sound of combat, friendly though it might have been: she could hear it from a distance, and it had been like a siren's call, the snarls and snaps calling her away from her wandering through the Caern's landscape and into the hangar where the Guardian and the Sentinel are quite literally at each others' throats.

In homid, the first thing that stands out about the blonde is her height. An inch shy of six feet even, she towers over the average female. Perhaps not the average female of this Sept, but the girl still has some growing left to do. Her body looks as though it's in the process of doing so right now, her limbs rangy and her physique more wiry than lean. There's a sense that she was built for work, that she was bred for fighting, and a good deal of the latter comes from the Rage that cracks at the very air around her. It's in her eyes, sharp blue and difficult to look at straight on.

She's dressed for the weather, wearing work boots and battered black jeans and a rose-colored Carhartt jacket, has her hands in her pockets and her back against the wall of the hangar. That's where she's standing when the Forseti shakes out his fur. It takes her a moment to move, and when she does it's fluidly, more like a she-wolf than a teenage girl. It doesn't call to mind a dancer's grace or an athlete's prowess. There's too much Rage for that.

"Wanna go another round?" she asks in a lazy drawl that sounds as though she's been roused from sleep.

[Grace] Grace loved the caern.

It was a strange sort of thing, in that initially, she didn't think she would like it, but now she's spent a fair chunk of time enjoying the fact that she did not have to wander around on two legs here. More importantly, communication and letting people know precisely what she was thinking or needing to say was much, much easier. She had come with Echo, and this is what one could consider ragabash bonding time.

Nothing about her openly screams Look at me! I'm Fianna!, though it must be said that Grace is much pretties in lupu shtan she is in homid. Fur is white and grey and black with patches of brown. Legs are long, body not overly muscled, but clearly built for endurance and agility.

She eyes the chips, then Echo, then Broken Hammer.

Then the chips again.

[Electronic Jedi] Rayne was coming through the area after her turn to tend to the pack totem shrine. The fight had caught her attention, and she made her way over. And rumors seemed to be true as well. She was dressed...nice, soccer mom nice actually. Dressed in one of those puffy jackets in pink, with matching winter scarf and beanie in baby color pastels of pink, blue, green and white made by Ewan's sister for her. She also wore jeans tucked into those big mukluk type boots.

Seeing who was there, and all, she came in and stood by Echo. "Hey sis. What's going on here?"

[Grace] (forgive typos, I'm not on firefox!)

[Broken Hammer] Broken Hammer is sometimes not very much like a Fenrir: quiet, rather humble, easily submitting to his betters; average height, on the lean side, stoopshouldered, sad-faced. He is a Fenrir, though, and no Fenrir likes to lose -- least of all publically. Tension sings through him as he hears applause, another voice; turns to see he has an audience.

A low growl doesn't quite make it out of his throat. Then he nods once to the newcomer, whose face he does not recognize.

[Broken Hammer] [i suggest, due to potential of several brawls breaking out, that we roll in PMs to those in question to keep the buffer clear!]

[Curata] He lounges back against the wall of hangar, planted on a tall crate that supports his weight, another pulled up near him to use as a footrest, long legs stretched out. Arms folded across his chest as he listens and watched the fighting in silence. His interest kept on those that were fighting, seeming to study the way they move.

A gloved hand pulls up to scratch at the underside of his chin, an eyebrow lifted curiously when the Fury spoke up to challenge the Fenrir.

[End Transmission] There wasn't really any hoarding going on, she'd been shoveling the snack food into her mouth at a ridiculous pace while the two Garou fought, leaning over with an expression of fixed intensity as her pack-mate attempted to hold his own against Height of Mountains. He'd failed, as was right, but that didn't stop her from whooping and cheering him on.

After all, that's what pack-mates were for, right?

The Ragabash caught sight of the Wolf-born's interest in the chips, and pushed them toward her. "Don't make yourself sick," she cautioned, and then lifted her head to peer around at Rayne. "Oh hey, just watching Dour Da--Daniel, my pack-mate having some tusslin' time with one of the Guardians. Looks like he might have another contender, though. Pull up a crate!"

She nodded toward the mish-mash of old, overturned crates in the corner, stacked haphazardly.

"Grace, this is Electric Jedi, she's another No Moon like us, but another of my tribe. Rayne, meet Grace, she's a Fianna Cub, new to the city." Echo catches sight of Curata, another audience member, and lifts her hand in a jovial salute.

[End Transmission] [Hey look, typos. Electronic Jedi, make that.]

[Until Death] The newcomer has no purity in her blood, no breeding to alert Broken Hammer as to whether she is a Fenrir like he is or a Bone Gnawer like she looks, or if she is something unforeseen, like a Silent Strider or a Child of Gaia. Her Rage is enough to ensure that she cannot and never will be able to walk amongst humanity and not strike fear into the minds and hearts of anyone she tries to interact with.

She seems the sort to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. That's how overpowering her inner anger is.

There's a nod, an indication that the Crinos wolf is not adverse to fighting more, and she shrugs out of her jacket, dropping it onto a nearby crate rather than the floor as she walks towards him. As she moves, she abandons her human skin, morphing into something far more powerful and primal, the hangar briefly filled with the rumbling, crackling sound of shifting.

[Curata] Curata came under the other Fostern’s attention, a hand lifted in a jovial salute that garners a raised eyebrow from the Ahroun. The left corner of his mouth curls up in the slightest of grins, gloved fingers drawn away from scratching his chin. Lifted to touch against his forehead and returns Echo’s salute.

He studies her for a few moments, casting a glance down to Grace who hovers near Echo and then his eyes are drawn back to the combatants, which seem to take up much of his interest.

[Broken Hammer] There's something very feral about Broken Hammer. He watches his new adversary, eyes gleaming alert. Still on all fours, the Forseti doesn't give a countdown, doesn't ask if the newcomer is ready or if they should get a referee; doesn't ask terms or discuss boundaries.

He waits until readiness is in the other's stance and motion. He trusts that instinctively, both will know where the stop. And as for terms -- he expects they will both invest into this combat what they feel it's worth.

When Until Death is fully shifted and within a few feet, the Forseti abruptly explodes forward, claws raking into the broken concrete floor of the hangar, agile body twisting to the side to go for the side.

[Electronic Jedi] "Sounds pretty interesting." She pulled a crate over to sit with Echo and watch the bout. When introductions were made, she smiled and nodded to the cub. "Pleasure to meet a new septmate."

She got comfortable, and glanced around. A slight lift of hand wave was given to Curata as well. "We haven't had sparring matches here since the last caern was up. It'll be good for this to start up again."

[Until Death] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10
to Broken Hammer

[Broken Hammer] [we're rolling in PMs. PM if you want to see the dice. otherwise results will be IC'ed shortly!]

[Sinclair] [I wanna see!]
to Broken Hammer

[Broken Hammer] (twisting to the side to go for the side? wtf. i kan rite.)
to Sinclair

[Broken Hammer] (twisting to the side to go for the side? wtf. i kan rite.)

[Grace] If I get sick from this you have free reign to mock me mercilessly, she relays to Echo. The Fianna is a different sort of creature in her breedform, earlier to understand, easier to communicate with, and... odd, because there were words and phrases that did not belong in a wolf's vocabulary.

She glances at Electronic Jedi, and there is a small chuff, a half bark. The sound is pleased; her tail swishes back and forth, away from her body. Her ears are perked. The sentiment, it seems, is shared with the Glass Walker.

Grace sticks her nose into the bag, biting a couple chips and pulling her nose back. She snorted, and the sound she made was low and half of a whine. She tried again, and she seems more pleased on the second try to eat chips.

[Broken Hammer] [She just rolled a 9 +10 on inits *LOL*

Declare:
1a. Flank!
b. Hamstring! +WP
R1. Retreat
R2. Claw

Here's his thinking: if hamstring succeeds, she'll be crippled and will take much longer to move to his position. So if he takes a full action to move somewhere, she'll have to use 2-3 actions to get there.

If hamstring fails, there's gonna be a redeclare on R1 *LOL*]
to Sinclair, Until Death

[Until Death] [Aw hell naw!
1a. The Falling Touch.
1b. Jaw lock!
R1: Claw.
R2: Claw.]
to Broken Hammer, Sinclair

[Broken Hammer] [Forgot to declare: Resist Pain active. Also, switch 1a to a get back to feet if knocked down! Roll away!]
to Sinclair, Until Death

[Until Death] [1a: Medicine+Dexterity: Bam! Diff: Daniel's Athletics+Stamina. -2 pool (split).]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 8)
to Broken Hammer, Sinclair

[Broken Hammer] 1a. bouncing back up! You're gonna have to redeclare on jawlock -- that's only doable from above or behind (...hurr. *mind in gutter*)
to Sinclair, Until Death

[Word on the Street] Nate looking a bit bleary eyed makes his way into the Gathering seems that the Galliard was already on the Caern grounds. It seems last nights battle, being presented before Bear and then out drinking with his new pack had left him a bit worse for wear.

He notices Echo and makes his way over to her , placing a hand gently on her shoulder "Hey Big Sis... what's going on?" the title more to do with her rank than her age.. Nate had some 2-3 years on her.

[Broken Hammer] (had a brainfart, forgot we dump splits. 1a redeclared as a block!)
to Sinclair, Until Death

[Until Death] 1b: Brawl+Dexterity (+1): Jaw Lock! -3 pool (split).]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
to Broken Hammer

[Broken Hammer] (block! -2)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 4, 4, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6) Re-rolls: 3
to Sinclair, Until Death

[End Transmission] The No Moon senses the proximity of her new pack-mate without lifting her eyes from the current fight, so Nate's hand coming to rest on her shoulder does not have her snapping or snarling at him as it might another Garou deigning simply to touch her without warning.

"Sparring, of course." She says without raising her eyes, her voice suggesting duh, look fronta ya, bro.

[Broken Hammer] (1b. hamstringing while jawlocked! +2 diff!)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Failure at target 10) [WP] Re-rolls: 1
to Until Death, Warcry

[Word on the Street] He reaches and rubs his eyes "Oh... yeah" his eyes focusing on the figures in front of him currently fighting as a yawn escaping his lips "You know... normally I have a cast iron stomach. But by god that man can drink.."

"So are we all just taking turns.. last man standing.. or just challenge who you want?"

[Until Death] [R1: Brawl+Dexterity (+1): Claw! -2 diff (immobilized target), +2 diff (maintaining jaw lock).]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 5, 5, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
to Broken Hammer, Warcry

[Until Death] [Damage: Strength +4 (Crinos) +1 (claw) +2 (suxx). Pulling at Incap.] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
to Broken Hammer, Warcry

[Electronic Jedi] Rayne pokes Nate out of the way of her and Grace, but with a smile. "It's whoever wants to spar with who, dude."

[Grace] This looks fun, she says. Grace eyes the bag of chips warily and turns away from it for the time being. She has seemed to have her fill of processed foods.

[Face of Death] Joey happens to follow after Electronic Jedi, appearing on the scene from the direction of the graves.

Her winter clothes are new, her bomber jacket and purple hoody having been destroyed by skull pigs last night. Her new clothes are mostly dark, her hair pinned down by a black knit cap. Her jeans are old and worn, as her her boots.

She makes a beeline for Echo and their new brother, and the cub she recognizes vaguely from the other day. When she reaches them, she doesn't ask what's going on.

"New girl?" she asks, watching the combatants.

[Broken Hammer] (soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
to Until Death, Warcry

[End Transmission] "Fury," returns Echo, nodding vaguely. She rips her eyes off the two Garou and grins broadly up at Nate, swinging her legs and drumming them against the back of the crate she's perched on. "And tell us about it, Hatchet drank us stupid at that Bonfire thingy. I don't even remember half of it. Man's a freak of nature," she attests, and then cracks her neck from side to side.

"Yeah, I think I wanna spar. I'm feeling all antsy."

[Broken Hammer] R1: counterclaw! +2 diff (pinned)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8) Re-rolls: 1
to Until Death, Warcry

[Warcry] There's no other children of Perun in the Caern right now. Kate might be back at the Loft bleaching her tub again, and quite possibly her hands. Lukas could be anywhere: patrolling, eating lamb in the common room, bouncing bedsprings someplace. Theron keeps muttering about Wolfhome lately, to the point that the last time he mentioned it without saying We're going, now she threw a pillow at him. And then a baseball bat.

Sinclair, however, is in the Caern. She's said her last prayers of penance to Maelstrom and Cockroach and yet comes here all the same, sometimes curled up and staring at the Wyrmpole with a thoughtful look on her face, sometimes walking around the edge of Maelstrom. Sometimes looking at the graves, recalling stories told at Gatherings, memorizing names that may one day need to be re-carved.

And now Sinclair's showing up on her own where Irene and Daniel are tussling, tipping her head to the side. "Hunh," she says to herself, considering.

[Broken Hammer] dam+1!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 9, 10 (Failure at target 6)
to Until Death, Warcry

[Until Death] [R2: Brawl+Dexterity (+1): Claw!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
to Broken Hammer, Warcry

[Until Death] [Damage: Strength +4 (Crinos) +1 (claw) +1 (suxx).] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 5, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to Broken Hammer, Warcry

[Broken Hammer] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)
to Until Death, Warcry

[Electronic Jedi] Rayne nudged at Echo. "You wanna good fight? There you go." She pointed to the incoming Warcry.

[Broken Hammer] R2: same as the first!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 6, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8) Re-rolls: 1
to Until Death, Warcry

[Broken Hammer] straight dam!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 7, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
to Until Death, Warcry

[Until Death] [Shit!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to Broken Hammer, Warcry

[Warcry] She's pointed at. Sinclair, her hair down and her head covered by a knit cap with puffballs on the top and hanging from the earflaps' strings, looks across the way and tips her head at Rayne and Echo. She quirks a brow, then looks back to the Fenrir and Fury brawl, hands shoved in the pockets of her coat. The look was curious, but not searching.

[Face of Death] Joey looks away from the fight to stare down at her sister, considering. Then she looks back at the fight, reaching up a fingerless gloved hand to scratch along the side of her nose.

She just opens her mouth to say something when Rayne mentions Warcry. Joey closes her mouth with a snap, turns her head to look at her former sister. The Rotagar says nothing, just rests her hip against Echo's crate.

[Electronic Jedi] Rayne waved her hand over at Sinclair to come over. "It's sparring night finally. Come and join us."

[Curata] Blue eyes scope out the new comers, faces that he has seen about the caern and some newer. A tilt of his head sends short strands of black hair to sweep across his brow into his eyes, which swim over the various bodies gathering and chatting about satisfying the itch to spar. Nostrils flare out as he breathes in deeply and then exhales it out, warm breath catching on the slight chill in the air that hangs in the hangar.

He lifts his boots up from the crate used as a footrest, dropping them down to plant his feet on the ground as he leans forward to stand up, shuffling away from the wall to join the gathering of Garou.

[End Transmission] Oddly tempted to break into a rendition of Ladies Night following Rayne's explanation of the impromptu gathering, the lean Ragabash's dark eyes follow the direction of her finger and she tilts her head to one side in a querulous fashion.

"Hey Warcry, you feel up to a bit of rough and tumble?" She hikes her thumb toward the Crinos forms of Daniel and Irene.

[Broken Hammer] Broken Hammer's agile, twisting assault is repelled instantly and effectively by nothing more than a touch. There's a silent implosion of spirit energy -- then the Forseti goes sprawling, the Fury lunging down atop him to seize his throat in her jaws.

Another wolf would instinctively twist to be free, now. Broken Hammer doesn't. Maybe it says something about his self-control. Maybe it says more about how used he is to being in this position -- submissive, bested, beaten to the ground.

It says something about his tenacity too. Locked together, the Crinoses claw at each other brutally and blindly -- more raw aggression than skill. Most of the blows are nearly ineffectual. One, however, digs deep into the Fury's underbelly, spilling blood and viscerae between their bodies, drenching their fur.

[Broken Hammer] (do you still want to be included in PMs, kai, since you're starting your own?

i wanna be witness to that, btw!

and, inits again! +8)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4 (Failure at target 6)
to Until Death, Warcry

[Until Death] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1
to Broken Hammer, Warcry

[Face of Death] With all the tension in the air, the brawling, the electricity, Echo isn't the only one getting jazzed for a fight. With her sister asking for a brawl with the former alpha of the Storm Chasers, Joey looks around to consider her prospects. There's Nate, her new brother, still looking weary from last night, the light weight.

And then there's Rayne, who Joey has seen at moots but has never actually talked to before. Dark eyes take in the older New Moon of the Glass Walkers.

"What about you? You wanna go?"

[Broken Hammer] [Daniel: 1A
Irene: 4A]

[Electronic Jedi] Rayne gave a shrug. "Sure, why not. Not like my pack is ever around to work out with." She smiled to Joey. "What terms you wanna go by?"

[Grace] She half-nudges Echo, then perks up to look at Joey. Her tail swished slightly, one side to the other, ears perked, posture friendly, though vocalization was content to remain at a minimum. She found herself inhaling, catching silverwarmandfenrisbred. Joey. Her name was Joey. She had to remember this. Grace regards her, and instead finds her attention moving from Echo to Sinclair... Warcry... A hard fight, from what it seems.

She perked up at the fight, cocking her head to the side and observed again.

[Word on the Street] Nate moves around and bumps his shoulder against Joey, noticing her quietness "Hey little sis.. fancy taking your chances against..." the sentence cut off as Joey asks the other female Garou for a dance.

He figures he'll get his chance so just stays quiet.

[Warcry] There's a trio of Ragabashes over there eying a Galliard. Two of them are of her tribe. One of them used to be her packmate. Two of them have felt exactly what Sinclair's teeth and claws can do to their bodies, one left bloody and defeated in a challenge circle and the other left bloody and near-dead in an alleyway. Echo has not, in her time in Chicago, gotten into more than a verbal press of wills with Warcry.

She doesn't walk over when Rayne beckons, either ignoring her, pretending not to hear, or deciding that 'come and join' was a suggestion from the Walker Elder and not an order. She does look up when Echo walks over though, pale eyes flicking to the New Moon's darker ones.

"You're a Fostern Walker. You turn your fur to steel and the fight's essentially over. Sounds more like a boring way to let you throw your weight around than a workout," she says dryly.

[Warcry] [Keep me in PMs! And I'll add you to the checklist when we start dicing, Damon!]
to Broken Hammer, End Transmission, Until Death

[Until Death] [RESIST PAIN I MISS YOU!
1a: Bite!
1b: Bite!
R1: Claw!
R2: Claw!]
to Broken Hammer, Warcry

[Face of Death] Joey rolls her eyes skyward, thinking. Nate bumps her shoulder, calls her little sis. No one's called her that since...wow.

Her mouth turns up in a tight yet nevertheless genuine smile. "You're next, man."

She turns her attention back to the Glass Walker. "I basically challenged you, so you set the terms."

[Electronic Jedi] "Hhmm..." She thought for a moment. "No gifts. No weapons. Basically til the first one falls? I have Bandages for afterwards, so we can heal up. Sound good? Cause with Ewan, it's all out, near death experiences with him. I just want one good sparring match."

[End Transmission] Echo laughs as she approaches at Sinclair's dry response to her offer of a [theoretically] friendly brawl. The brunette's hair was styled up into a Mohawk again tonight, her body cloaked in a dark trench-coat that flapped around her scrawny frame as she walked.

"Well hey, how about if we go a 'bout sans Gifts. Just tooth and claw and see who winds up on top."

[Grace] Attention stayed on the sparring match briefly, then the Fianna noticed that there was yet another nearby that she could go investigate. Without much word, or herald to being anything other than a curious sort, she headed off to go investigate Curata.

He smelled like stag, this could be beneficial.

[Face of Death] "Alright."

It's the last word the Rotagar says in Homid. She steps away to an open space, shifting as she goes into her massive war form. She turns, and waits for her opponent.

[switching to PMs for rolls!]

[Broken Hammer] 1a. claw!
b. claw!
c. holding this til after Irene's 1a/1b: get up after she lets go to bite! (i'll roll this as a dex+ath since it's not a simple stand-up-from-ground when Irene's still on top of him)
R1. bite!
to Until Death, Warcry

[Curata] The Fianna seems content to not really socialize with anyone, his eyes had gone back to the fight between the Fury and the Fenrir. Snippets of conversation between the other filter into his ears, straying his gaze briefly to see who was going to step next into the fray.

He glances away briefly, hunting down an unused crate. One hand snatches out for it, dragging it over as he drops down to sit. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He doesn't look away until there is a presence near his leg, a cold nose and a wagging tail in the form of Grace. An eyebrow lifts up as he looks down at her curiously, smirking.

" 'allo, pup." Curata extends a hand down, palm turned up to allow the wolf to sniff at his hand, but doesn't reach out to touch her.

[Broken Hammer] -3! +2diff!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 6, 7, 7 (Failure at target 8)
to Until Death, Warcry

[Broken Hammer] b. -4, +2!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8) Re-rolls: 2

[Broken Hammer] (whoops. sorry!)

[Broken Hammer] straight dam!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)
to Until Death, Warcry

[Until Death] [1a: Brawl+Dexterity (+1): Bite! -4 pool (split/wound penalties).]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 (Failure at target 5)

[Until Death] [Ack!]

[Until Death] [Damage: Strength +4 (Crinos) +1 (claw) +1 (suxx).] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to Broken Hammer, Warcry

[Broken Hammer] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
to Until Death, Warcry

[Warcry] She considers it. A fight without Gifts, which they both know is a major line between the strength of a Cliath and the strength of a Fostern. Sinclair cracks her neck and shrugs. Then nods. "Alright."

[Electronic Jedi] Rayne got up, pulling off her puffy pink jacket, scarf, beanie, sweater, and the rest of her clothes til she was in her skivvies. Then followed Joey to the ring as she shifted to crinos.

[Until Death] [1b: Brawl+Dexterity (+1): Bite! -5 pool (split/wound penalties), -2 diff (downed target).]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 3) [WP]
to Broken Hammer, Warcry

[Until Death] [Damage: Strength +4 (Crinos) +1 (bite) +3 (suxx).] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
to Broken Hammer, Warcry

[Broken Hammer] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 7, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to Until Death, Warcry

[Broken Hammer] 1c. bounce up! -5
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]

[End Transmission] [Shifting to Crinos!
+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6
to Broken Hammer, Until Death, Warcry

[Warcry] [-1R to Hispo
+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8
to Broken Hammer, End Transmission

[Broken Hammer] R1. chomp!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
to Until Death, Warcry

[Broken Hammer] dam +2
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
to Until Death, Warcry

[Until Death] [Shit!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5 (Failure at target 6)
to Broken Hammer, Warcry

[End Transmission] [1a. Bite
1b. Bite
1c. Claw
R1. Claw]
to Broken Hammer, Until Death, Warcry

[Warcry] [1a. Bite
1b. Bite
R1. Bite
R2. Bite]
to Broken Hammer, End Transmission, Until Death

[Until Death] For a few moments, neither of the vertical combatants is able to do much more than whiff their claws and fangs off of each others' hide. Broken Hammer swings his claws at the heavily-wounded Ahroun twice, missing once and glancing off of her shoulder the second time, and the nameless black-furred beast has similar luck when she removes her teeth from his neck to bite.

Her second attempt, however, tears through his shoulder, baring fascia and what little fat there is on his body, spilling blood onto the cold concrete beneath their bodies. He doesn't even feel it. In the next second, the Fenrir springs to his feet, catching the Ahroun by surprise. His teeth sink into her throat, robbing her of her consciousness and dropping her to the floor in a bloody heap.

It was a close fight, but the male is the victor.

[Warcry] [1a. -2 (split) -1 (waning gibbous moon)]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 7, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2
to Broken Hammer, End Transmission, Until Death

[Warcry] [Damage! Will pull at Incap if necessary.]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)

[End Transmission] [Soak -- holy mother of...]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
to Broken Hammer, Until Death, Warcry

[Warcry] [SORRY!]

[Warcry] [1b. -3 (split) -1 (moon)]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 4, 4, 5, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2
to Broken Hammer, End Transmission, Until Death

[Warcry] [Damage! Will pull at Incap if necessary]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
to Broken Hammer, End Transmission, Until Death

[End Transmission] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
to Broken Hammer, Until Death, Warcry

[Grace] Are you intent on watching or are you going to join? she asks. Again, in her breed form, Grace is a different sort of creature. She is expressive, she is articulate, she is relaying ideas in a clear and effective manner. Tail up, ears forward, her nose touches his hand briefly, then pulls back when she realizes precisely how close she was.

Grace, she offers. It's the only name she has to call herself by; she has no scent to declare her presence. The equivalent of being nameless.

[End Transmission] [Okay! Gonna change some actions, here to account for the PAIN.
1a. Slap Gaia's Breath on self for 4 Suxx of health 6A -> 2A
1b. Keeping as same, bite
1c. Keeping as same, claw
R1. Claw]
to Broken Hammer, Until Death, Warcry

[Curata] He can read the posturing and gesturing in Grace's body as she replies. His attention diverted from the fights going on for the time being as he watched her. Broad shoulders roll up and back in under the worn old bomber jacket he wears.

"Dunno, 'aven't decided yet." He nods to the ring, "Why aren't ye out there yeself?"

She offers up a name. Grace. He considers this for a moment, looking back at the ring. "Curata the Grim Heart."

[Broken Hammer] It's a cold night, even in the shelter of an old, leaky-roofed hangar. Broken Hammer's breath is a hot humid plume, panting out and dissipating on every exhale. As reticent and dour as he is, the Forseti holds an astonishing amount of rage inside him. It's usually locked away, kept carefully banked and hidden. Not so, right now. It flickers and blazes at the surface, crackling in his eyes, raising his fur on end.

He steps back from the female, muscles quivering under his fur with the aftereffects of rage and adrenaline, dropping immediately to a crouch. There he stays, breathing deeply and slowly, until he sufficiently masters himself.

Then the Forseti reverts to homid form. He's underdressed for the weather -- layers of hoodies and flannel shirts, jeans -- but they're a tough breed, the Fenrir. He produces a rawhide bag from somewhere in the layers, rummages around until he finds a healing gourd, which he breaks over the Fury.

When she comes to, he speaks plainly: "I am Broken Hammer, Cliath Half Moon of the Fenrir, follower of Bear. Who are you?"

[gogo healing gadget! +4]

[Grace] Do you learn more from doing or watching? Ninety percent of communication is nonverbal, and then, you decide which is more fun.

Silence. Not much, just observing yet again.

[End Transmission] [This is gonna be funny.]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3 (Failure at target 5)
to Broken Hammer, Until Death, Warcry

[Face of Death] Even in Crinos, Joey is comparatively small. She's compact and light on her feet, an athlete as much as she is a warrior. As soon as Rayne is close, the Fenrir launches forward, swiping at the Glass Walker. But this is not her preferred fighting form. Maybe this is on purpose. Maybe the confident Joey thinks this will help even the playing field against her competitor. Either way, twice her claws slice the air just in front of the Glass Walker, and twice she fails to connect. Frustrated, she falls back on her jaws, tearing into the Glass Walker's shoulder.

Rayne is none too pleased. She swipes at Joey's face, the tips of her claws barely scratching across the younger girl's face. She tries again, this time aiming for the mass of scarred flesh at Joey's throat, but Joey dances back.

The Rotagar tips her head to the side at Rayne, nostrils breathing in the scent of the older No Moon's blood in the air. Her jaw drops open and for a moment her tongue lolls, a wolf's smile. This is fun.

Rayne: 3A
Joey: OK!

[Curata] "Both, actually." He replies to Grace, his gaze brought back to the fighting rings. "Ye can learn much in the way a person reacts to a situation, to a thrown punch or a swiping claw, how well they can take a hit, if'n they are the ones still standing, just by watching, lass."

He chuckles, leaned forward still with his elbows on his knees as he points out two of the combatants, "Ye learn also by participation, taking wha' ye studied and seeing if ye can apply it."

[Until Death] Without her jacket on, the female looks terribly slender. Her thermal shirt, once off-white, is stained red with the torn from her side and her throat; blood has splattered onto her jeans, but the wash is so dark that the streaks are mere hints of gore than actual stains. Her hair, long and unrestrained, sticks to her throat. Unconscious and sapped of Rage, she doesn't appear to be any older than eighteen, if she's even that old.

She lies still, breathing slowly and easily with the freedom from pain that unconsciousness brings, as Daniel rises to rummage free a talen to take away the injuries he inflicted upon the other combatant mere moments ago. The dust clings to the gaping wounds in her throat and side, and within seconds, flesh has knit itself back together and blood has stopped bubbling. There remains a great rift where Broken Hammer's claw swiped, but that will heal within a matter of days if she does not seek out healing elsewhere.

When she comes to she coughs, turns her head to spit congealed blood onto the concrete, and looks up at the Fenrir with an irritated furrow stitched between her brows. She is used to pain. It is an annoyance more so than anything else. She does not leap at him or hurl a fist to express her displeasure at having been bested. She hefts herself up on her elbows, wincing with the tugging of wounded flesh, then pushes herself forward until she is sitting upright.

"Until Death," she answers, reaching up to wipe her mouth and jaw with the sleeve of her shirt. "Cliath Full Moon of the Furies, follower of Stheno."

[Warcry] As one brawl is winding down, the lean Fenrir introducing himself by way of healing to the even leaner Fury, another one snaps into sudden motion. One second the two Glass Walkers are chatting about how Steelfur would make the whole thing just too unfair to the Galliard, too impossible for it to be anything but a Fostern sitting on a Cliath...

...and the next, there's a mottled brown and gray crinos facing off against a broad-shouldered, long-bodied hispo whose lips are curling back off her bared teeth.

It happens in literally three seconds. Blink, and you miss it. Look down at the female you're healing, turn your head to the lupus cub you're talking to, get into your own brawl, and it's over before it even gets started. The moon overhead is waning gibbous. Sinclair's eyes in homid were slightly redringed, as though she's been getting high or crying. She looked paler than usual, more angular, her motions less smooth. She has a hungry, weakened look to her for some reason tonight.

But in an eyeblink, she shoots forward, leaping into the air and tearing her jaws through Echo's shoulder, then snapping her teeth again in the Fostern's belly as she comes back down. Her feet touch ground and the Ragabash sways, hemorrhaging blood from two savage, ripping wounds. She snarls and lunges, biting at Warcry --

-- tasting air.

She does not pass out. She does not revert to breed form. But nor does she get up to attack again, though her rage courses through the air until everyone around can almost taste it. Sinclair takes two steps back, watching her, blue eyes gleaming in this form. Blood drenches her maw. She breathes normally. Echo does not. Can not.

A second later, Sinclair is back in her birth form, all of her clothes still intact, hanging to her soul as well as her athletic frame. She's in a crouch, staring still at End Transmission. "I can heal you, rhya," she says in a low voice, level with respect, "if you wish it."

[Warcry] [For the record!
Echo: 6A
Sinclair: OK]

[Face of Death] [1b: - 4]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 6, 6, 7 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Word on the Street] As fights finish and victors are declared, Nate steps forward from where he was standing and makes his way into the outskirts of the makeshift arena. His eyes scanning the Garou gathered for an opponent, Joey still busy with hers.

[Electronic Jedi] Joey was so much faster than Rayne imagined. But then, Rayne was a fighter of another matter. She fought through T3 lines, and fiberops.

Just as Rayne was scooping up dirt to throw at Joey, the little Rotagar quickly flanked behind Rayne. The claw of the little Fenrir came down deep, and fast into Rayne's back before the GW could move. And down the GW went, hitting the ground as her blood spilled across the dirt.

[End Transmission] The massive Crinos form lays bleeding, the chest heaving as blood bubbles out of wounds. She is seething full of unspent Rage, and yet she cannot quite manage to garner the energy to attack Warcry at present. Instead, she remains where she is for a moment before grunting and forcing her great bulk over, blood splattering the concrete beneath her.

End Transmission utters a whuff of refusal and instead reaches for a small gourd; crunching it in her massive paw and sprinkling the contents over her stomach, mashing it into her shoulder. The Glass Walker twitches, and her teeth are bared as the healing properties spread through her body. The blood stops, the wounds begin to heal over and when she finally morphs back to her human skin; she's grinning a feral animal's grin.

"God damn, Warcry." It's all she manages for a moment, and then with a grunt, she pushes herself upright, still seated on the ground. "Wanna go again?"

[-1 Gnosis for GB]

[Broken Hammer] Black Fury. The words flicker in the Forseti's dark eyes; in the end, he says nothing. Broken Hammer simply nods once, silent, acknowledging. Then he hands the Fury a second healing talen to use or keep as she wishes, and stands.

Wolves do not say goodbye to one another. They do not smalltalk to soften a departure. Broken Hammer is not a wolf; is not even wolf-born; but he is so far from human that these conventions do not occur to him. Without another word, he turns and walks from the hangar.

The wounds under his clothes blossoms red onto the fabric for a while. By the time he reaches the door, however, another expenditure of spirit energy has stopped the flow and sealed the gashes.

[-1 Gn for GB again!]