Daniel Broken Hammer

[Daniel] (not it!)

[Izzy Montoya] (BAH, bitch. *L*)

[Izzy Montoya] (was actually gonna offer even. *L* *cracks knuckles, types*)

[Izzy Montoya] [Echo, echo, do I hear an echo?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Izzy Montoya] It's a far too common occurrence, even here on the 'Good' side of town. There's a crime scene, there's a body, there's a sudden influx of police force, and then - a few hours later, it all fades away until there is only one left with the caution tape. They don't know how she does it. They don't care how she does it. They just know that when Detective Izzy Montoya gets a hunch, they listen.

And so it is, once more, Izzy's standing in the middle of a crime scene - viewable from the street through the storefront window crisscrossed with yellow police tape. Her hands are on her hips, her entire being focused as she stares at some spot on the floor, or on that wall, or over there by the door.

...please... please... just let her go - I'll do anything you want...
...you will anyway.
...She's just a kid, Georgie.. a goddamn kid...
...She done seen us!
...Please, let her go, take me...

...SHUT UP....
bang.bang.SCREAM.bang.silence.

It's not much, but it is enough. She peels off the latex gloves, then scrubs her face with her hand. "Jesusmarymotheroffuck." A breath, and she turns toward the door, ducking under the tape, and stepping to the sidewalk, where she stops to light a cigarette from the battered pack found in the pocket of her coat.

[Daniel] Just days ago, it was unseasonably, unreasonably warm in Chicago. Not so anymore. It's below freezing, the landscape cloaked in snow, the skies overhead leaden with storms. The moon, which is nearly full, cannot be seen.

Daniel can feel it though, a tug in his blood. He feels it far more than he feels the cold, which is something he's grown accustomed to; something that his fenrir bones and flesh does not fear. Standing in his usual heavy jeans and multiple hoodies, the lean Forseti frowns steadily into the storefront, not glancing at the kinswoman as she exits.

He does speak, though, when she's passing him on her way back to her car. Softly, barely audible: "You hunt the guilty?"

[Daniel] (*nails down*)

[Gabriella Bellamonte] [*Bleeds, but stays*]

[Izzy Montoya] She has become accustomed to things as well, since arriving in Chicago. Primarily, that Chicago Fenrir rarely ask a question they actually want an answer too. Heaven forbid honesty be offered without qualm, without fear. No, they want the answers they expect, they want...

..well who the fuck really cares what they want.

Cigarette lit, she inhales deeply, and tucks the lighter back into her pocket. Daniels question is barely audible, but she is still thrumming with the intensity of her listening and is attuned to any little sound, any little comment. At least he didn't call her 'kinswoman' again. That shit's fuckin annoying.

Exhale. She turns toward his voice, and reaches up to pull the badge hanging around her neck by a chain, off, wrapping the chain around it and tucking it into her pocket. "Yeah. It's my fuckin' job." There's a glance inside again, and then a shake of her head, voice no more audible than his for a moment... "She was just a fuckin' kid."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Search high, search low, search for days, and nobody could offer her anything more than a shrug or an 'I think I might have seen...'. Information was old, unreliable because days had washed it away, and the trail had grown too cold for her to follow. Days spent walking through Chinatown and Bronzeville had her helplessly lost, not geographically but otherwise, and now she only wandered listlessly, scraping for hope but finding it nowhere.

Two-inch heels at the bottoms of knee-high boots clicked on the salted pavement along the sidewalk, carrying upon them the weight of a Kinswoman that had the breeding of Queens. Her thick bronze hair was left in loose curls, twisted to the right to fall over one shoulder alone, with a black beret upon her head and an expensive double-breasted black coat keeping her insulated. Tight dark jeans sheathed her legs, tucked into the boots, and her hands were dipped into her coat pockets. Eyes, a bright blue and one of her more distinguishable features, cut this way and that, looking anxious and helpless at the same time, though her pace suggested confidence feigned to keep undesirables from harassing her.

Up ahead there was flashing lights, yellow crime scene tape, and a couple of people standing on the sidewalk. Only when distance closed did they strike her as familiar. Fenrir, the pair, one Kin one True. ...maybe they could help?

[Daniel] Daniel nods once, slowly. He has yet to look at her -- dark eyes direct, straight ahead.

"Now I understand your wrath and your misplaced pride," he says quietly.

[Izzy Montoya] There's a huff of amusement at that, as she shakes her head. "Somehow, I doubt that." she holds a hand up though, as if to forestall any bristling and sputtering.

It's so much more than one crime scene. It's a past of over a decade on the job, it's a past of taking a fall for the motherfuckin' nation, it's a past of constantly clawing her way to where she is now, so she can do what she does.

There's so much more. Not that they'd ever ask. Her expressions are wry, her smirk lopsided, her tension still wound tight around her spine, the nicotine doing little to help her relax. She scrubs her face with her hand again, shoves her fingers back through her hair before letting a breath escape again.

"But I suppose it's a start."

[Daniel] (LESS WATCH MORE PLAY)

[Gabriella Bellamonte] The girl with the Silver Fang blood but hardly the heart approached the pair of Get, pace slowing until it came to a complete stop some ten feet away. Her hands slipped out of her pockets to clasp together out in the air in front of her, roughly chest level, one hand rubbing slowly over the other that had been closed into a loose fist. Beneath her freckles her face was pallid, though that could easily be blamed on the season and lack of sun, but the ghosting circles beginning to manifest under her eyes were a little more difficult to explain away.

She waited for a pause in the conversation, for quiet to crop up between the man and woman, then spoke up in a tone that was mild, apologetic for interrupting, and hesitant, as though she expected quite the tongue lashing for even making the effort to speak with them.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to bother, but... I'm looking for someone, perhaps you've seen him?"

[Daniel] "No," he cuts her off immediately, flatly. "There is no doubt. I spent most my life hunting the guilty, kinswoman. It made me hard and cruel and angry and proud, and in the end it led to the worst sort of fault and failure.

"Watch yourself, kinswoman. You tread a dark path."

A pause; then he turns to Gabriella. "Who?"

[Izzy Montoya] "My NAME is Detective Montoya. Or Izzy. It's not that motherfuckin' hard." Snapped. Instant.

The rest, she ignores. One simple courtesy is often all it would take. He is hard and cruel and angry and proud, and cannot bring himself to do even that. It could be so simple. It never is.

Shift of focus, as she looks to Gabriella, and rubs her temple a moment, before nodding. "I'll help if I can. Who're you looking for?"

[Daniel] (annnd we're gonna be fighting now *LOL*)

[Izzy Montoya] (*LMAO* of course we are!)

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Her face twisted into an expression of discomfort, eyes flickering from Izzy to Daniel. She recognized the pair of them. Daniel had been there to witness when her sister cast her out, had wished her luck in her new life unguarded. Izzy had the tongue and attitude to put herself in a boiling pot of water with any creature of Rage she encountered, it seemed (which was something Gabbie could relate to, simply on a different level). She watched Daniel's face cautiously, wondered if she'd have to attempt to soothe him as she had done Fons some odd number of weeks ago.

She never got a chance to utter the name whose face and body she sought to go along with it, because something ticked and spasmed on the Fenrir's face, his Rage flexed and buckled, and Gabriella tensed.

Never a peaceful night...

[Izzy Montoya] [inits +7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[Daniel] There is no tick. There is no spasm. The Forseti's face is hard as iron, unyielding as stone; it doesn't even change as he turns -- finally -- to face Izzy, and to smash his knuckles across her face.

[+7!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4 (Failure at target 6)

[Gabriella Bellamonte] [+6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1

[Gabriella Bellamonte] [Action: Step back! Not my fight!]

[Izzy Montoya] It's not. That. Hard. And fist swinging or not, she'd say it again. She'd do it again. She WILL do it again, until he learns common fuckin manners.

Things go both ways. Respect goes both ways. Either way, fist swings, and she ducks. She's been here before. She'll be here again.

[declare: Dodge!]

[Daniel] 1a. grapple
1b. punch!

[Daniel] a. str+brawl -2!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 5, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Izzy Montoya] (Dodge! dex+dodge =5)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Daniel] dodged! b. punch! dex+brawl -3!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2

[Daniel] (straight str)
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 5, 6 (Failure at target 6)

[Daniel] Izzy dodges. Daniel's hard fingers glance off; then his fist brushes past her cheek with no effect. The first hints of pique and fire in the Forseti's eyes, flaring. There's a growl in his chest.

"Stand still for your punishment, kinswoman."

[Izzy Montoya] "Use my motherfuckin' name."

In other words.... No.

[Daniel] (*cough* rage check, Short Fuse flaw)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 3)

[Daniel] Rage - like a flash in the pan, snarling at the chain and gone.

No response. He comes at her.

(reinit!)

[Izzy Montoya] (+7!)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7

[Gabriella Bellamonte] [+6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3

[Daniel] (+7!)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Gabriella Bellamonte] [Action: Try and talk sense into Izzy! It couldn't hurt...]

[Izzy Montoya] He comes at her, again. She refuses to stand still for it. It's a simple thing. Such a simple thing. You'd think he could understand that... but apparently not. Too bad she's as hardheaded stubborn as he is...

At least she hasn't reached for her gun.
Yet.

[1. Dodge, baby dodge.]

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabriella had stepped to the side rather than reeling backwards completely, bringing herself closer to the buildings, away from the curb, and pulled her hands together into a singular fist to press into her chest as she watched the man attempt to assault the policewoman, chewing on her lip nervously. Something looked wrong with the situation, Gabriella ought to be jumping in to try and help the woman, or at least cowering properly as though she were afraid she'd be struck, or crying for help. But no, instead she watched, uncomfortable but hardly terrified or even particularly shocked with what was unfurling before her.

The Garou snarled, the woman snapped back, and Gabriella spoke up, tone edged with anxiety that was too dull to be genuine and life-fearing. A suggestion with half a heart behind it on a lilting, sophisticated tongue.

"Just stand down... Please, you're making it worse."

[Daniel] (sorry guys -- was on the phone *off now!*

Rage - to Glabro
1. Grab
R1. Smash face to wall
R2. Again
R3. Again)

[Daniel] 1. Grab! str+brawl
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Izzy Montoya] (Dex+dodge = 5)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Daniel] R1. Grab again!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Daniel] (that's 1 succ - +1 for action change.)

[Daniel] R2. Face, meet wall! (-2 diff for grappled, otherwise rolling as a punch)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 4) Re-rolls: 5

[Daniel] (Str +6)
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Izzy Montoya] SOAK! (Don't laugh. *L*)
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 5, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Daniel] R3. And again!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 4) Re-rolls: 1

[Daniel] (str +1)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Izzy Montoya] (hahahah. Soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Fons Van Der Noot] Winter has come yet again and Fons is protected from the harsh mistress that is Winter weather. Chicago was almost as brutal as his home, almost. However where the cold was not as bad, the wind was horrific. Biting at any exposed flesh now. And as he moved from the hunt through the night back to his home, where he expected Gabriella to be at this time of night, he seemed to come across something strange.

No matter what she wore, how much clothes she threw on herself, she shown like a beacon in the night. Drawing him in, to her. Blood calling to blood.

But as he moved closer, another sight caught his attention. A familiar figure having her head smashed into a wall just beyond his kin, Izzy taking a beating from some unknown creature. A man beyond the man form. A smirk almost crossing his lips, but a more instinctual aspect took over, moving silently to stand between Gabbie and the situation. Looking over the silver fang kin before turning to watch the vicious situation.

Silent for the moment.

[Daniel] Two abrupt meetings of wall and face later, Izzy's strong features are a mask of blood and Daniel's bone-hard fingers are twisted firmly into the hair at the back of her head. There's a faint, wet sound as he pulls her face off the wall.

Hulking, neanderthalic now, utterly disregarding for the moment the two Fangs gathered to watch, the Glabro-formed Fenrir growls in her ear: "I'll have an apology for your tone and your disrespect, kinswoman."

[Izzy Montoya] Izzy pays no attention to Gabi's attempt at reason. Gaby's not the one being hit, and thus has the ability to plead that someone else stand there and take it. Izzy's not the taking type. In fact, she's not the apologizing type either. There's a wet sound as he pulls her off the wall.

And there's a chuckle that starts deep in her throat, as she spits blood from her mouth - though it does precious little good. She still is not resisting his hold. The fact that she has still not gone for her weapon is something that should be applauded. He said he understood her.

He was wrong.
One word, mangled and strained.

"Izzy."

[Moira Murray] Watching the face of someone you know get smashed into a wall isn't a sight you particularly want to take in. Moira sees the tail end of the confrontation as she exited the small store and made her way up the sidewalk. Steps drawing slower and slower until she paused, several feet behind Gabriella and Fons.

Eyebrows drawn in a deep furrow as she scowls. "Sweet fucking Gaia." She hisses out.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] The woman didn't listen, but perhaps she simply didn't have a chance to heed the other Kinfolk's warning. The Fenrir's body rippled and bulged, and a skillet-sized hand seized the Kinwoman by the thick brown hair and began to slam her face into the wall, twice in rapid succession-- crunch!crunch!-- before he leaned down to put his face at her shoulder and whisper into her ear.

Gabriella pressed her shoulder into the wall and her fist against her chest, and stared in horror (but not surprise) at the scene unfurling. A fresh press of Rage emerged, and a set of broad shoulders came into view, a dark head of hair and a tall, proud stance. Her eyes jumped up to Fons, lids batted a few times, and she moved a hand to her mouth to bite at her thumbnail, once, before speaking quietly to the Galliard's shoulder.

"He's going to kill her, the foolish thing..."

[Fons Van Der Noot] For the moment Daniel could ignore the overwhelming power that stood before him. His face stark and eyes sharpened on the scene before him. Bundled within the expensive lined trench coat, hands buried within the pockets even though they are covered in leather gloves. He does not move to help Izzy, nor to stay the hand of the man who was pounding her within an inch of her life, standing in the near-war form.

Just watching as the insolent kin finally had what was coming to her.

And as she spoke into his shoulder, he stood silent. His body protective at this moment, waiting. His mind however, moving to link with her own at this moment.

[Daniel] (okay, that time i was cooking. no more interruptions for the rest of the evening, i promise.)

It seems rather like Gabriella might be correct. Hearing that single mangled word out of her mouth -- decidedly not an apology -- the Forseti rears up and smashes Izzy's head into the wall three more times.

He does not appear to be holding back.

(inits again?)

[Fons Van Der Noot] (7+)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[Izzy Montoya] (+7)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4

[Daniel] (+7!)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2 (Failure at target 6)

[Gabriella Bellamonte] [+6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3

[Moira Murray] [5+]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10

[Daniel] (Moira
Fons
Izzy
Dan
Gabbie

dec's in reverse!)

[Gabriella Bellamonte] [Action: Pretty useless, do nothing.]

[Daniel] 1a/b: smash, smash!
R1: smash!

[Izzy Montoya] [at 6 bashing, she's -5 dice. She's VERY DETERMINED not to draw her weapon. Which means? She's got nuthin. Kahseeno, be kind.

1a/b/r1 Be Smashed.]

[Fons Van Der Noot] (Hold action under end of round, at -2 dice for mindspeak continually usage)

[Moira Murray] [Watching for now]

[Daniel] 1a, -2!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 4) Re-rolls: 1

[Daniel] dam+2
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Izzy Montoya] HAHAHAHH. Soak.
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Daniel] b. -3!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 3, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 4)

[Daniel] dam +1
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 5, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Izzy Montoya] (soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Fons Van Der Noot] (Changing action to use Mind speak on Daniel as well, will Daniel resist?)

[Daniel] (He probably doesn't have the presence of mind to resist.)

[Fons Van Der Noot] ~MS~
Point made unless your elder said otherwise.
to Daniel, Gabriella Bellamonte

[Fons Van Der Noot] His body does not move to stop Daniel at this moment, but his mind now linked Gabriella, Daniel and himself. The regal tone of his address shockingly just as potent as if he said it out loud.

[Daniel] [WP: don't kill your kin! +2 diff: almost full moon; short fuse flaw]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 7, 7, 9 (Failure at target 8)

[Daniel] R1
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 5, 8 (Success x 6 at target 4)

[Daniel] Dam +5
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 3, 5, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Izzy Montoya] (soak pleaseohpleaseohplease)
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Daniel] [lemme post, guys!]

[Daniel] Sometimes Daniel hardly seems like a Garou at all.

Sometimes he's so feral, so baffled by humanity that he seems a lupus or a metis. Sometimes he's so stiff, so formal, so cold and hard that he seems like a creature of the Weaver. A shell. A construct.

What the idle observer doesn't realize is: it is exactly that. An artifical construct. A protective shell of indifference and control and silence and stoicism over a core of

utter
bleeding
rage.

This began as an act of discipline. It's descended into something perilously close to a frenzy. The Forseti's lips are peeled back, his canines bared; his eyes, so dark in homid, are sliding closer to the bright yellow of his warforms by the second.

His hand has an inescapable grip on Izzy's hair. He smashes her face into the wall again

(it doesn't merely bruise her or bloody her nose, this time. it smashes the bone architecture of her face, crumples the bridge of her nose in, shatters both cheekbones against brick)

and again, and again.

There was utterly no restraint. It's sheer luck that keeps Izzy breathing. When he's finished the thing he drops on the sidewalk is barely recognizeable, a battered meat-sack, a bag of bruises and broken bones.

Broken Hammer's mouth hangs open, snarling, his breath harsh from his throat. He glares around at the observers, one to the next to the next, quick aggressive flicks of his eyes like an animal at bay.

"WHAT?" he bellows at them. "What is there to see?"

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Over and over and over again, and the crunch became more of a whump, then became a [i]slap/i].

Gabriella flinched, dropped her eyes from the brutal imagery, but did not look away completely. Eyes stayed at about hip level on the Foresti and his Kin, she couldn't stomach to watch the nose disappear into the face, to watch flesh turn red and purple and swell out enough to pinch eyes closed and restrict breathing to the point that it was a miracle she was able to keep air flowing at all.

Then the woman slid to the ground, still virtually lifeless save for the ragged up-and-down of back and chest, and Gabriella made a sound of unease. Daniel whipped around, roared at her and Fons (and the dark-haired girl that had appeared out of nowhere), and Gabriella flinched.

Heels clicked on the pavement, quiet and quick, to bring her up to the Galliard's side. A hand reached out, grasped the sleeve of his coat at the elbow, but her eyes stayed forward, upon Daniel's face, back down to the back of Izzy's head, then up again.

"Fons," she murmered quietly, urging almost and soothing all at once.

[Moira Murray] Moira can barely suppress the shudder that rocks through her shoulders, forcing muscles to tighten and convulse under the weight of her long coat. She stands there, observant - vigilant as the pair of Silver Fangs in front of her. Her eyes start to narrow slowly, eyebrows furrowing deeply as she stares in utter contempt at the Garou that the blood pounding in her veins calls relation to.

One foot sets in front of the other, steps are cautiously taken with little regard for their surroundings. She sees Izzy's car in her line of sight, ponders the use of it, and then flicks her eyes down to the ground - at the slumping and bloody form of the cop.

[Fons Van Der Noot] His eyes fall upon the Garou nearly out of his mind with rage and to the kin that was laying in a heap on the floor. The wounds she had received would need medical attention and soon, but that was not his matter. However there were other issues that he needed to address. Now his voice holding all its royal charm, enraptured within those smooth tones.

"Again, I believe your point is made. I do not think it wise to kill an officer of this city as it will only bring investigations upon the gaians of the city and potential unravel the veil."

His eyes met with the beast wrapped in the near war form now, barely holding onto his humanity.

"Not to mention, I believe this issue should be brought before your elder."

[Daniel] Broken Hammer, in response, bares his teeth further and makes a sound that's somewhere between wordless shout and bark and roar. Bending, he seizes his limp kinswoman by the belt. Throws her over his shoulder.

Unless stopped, he pushes out of the small crowd, walking away without a glance back.

[Fons Van Der Noot] (WP)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Moira Murray] "If he takes her away like that. She may die without treatment." Moira says suddenly, her eyes cutting to Fons and Gabbie. She had come upon the Fangs, stood a foot away from Gabbie and behind Fons to keep him between her and the departing Daniel.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabbie tensed when Daniel bark-snarled at them, tightened her grasp on Fons's arm and ducked her head just a touch, dropping her eyes to the fallen kinswoman once more. The Foresti seized her by the belt, tossed her unceremoniously over her shoulder like so much luggage, and pushed away from them.

The pretty dark-haired girl spoke up, and Gabbie glanced back to her, eyes wide from what she'd just seen, but searching from the outside in, trying to decide her feelings on the situation, her stand-point, and what course of action she thought to be best. Her hand kept tight, secure on Fons even as she addressed Moira with a shake of her head and a low, half-shaky sort of voice.

"No... He's clearer. He must be, otherwise he would have left her or kept mangling her. He is not an idiot, he must know how dire the damage is. Just.... leave them alone."

[Fons Van Der Noot] A slight sneer came over him now, the beast within him starting to grow and Gabriella knew this quiet well as the link they shared in that moment immediately snapped closed, leaving the gift beyond as his eyes focus on the Get. Stern and annoyed.

"I care little what you do with the kin of your tribe, but you will not show me such disrespect. I am Fons "Dirge of the Covenant" Van Der Noot, born under the regal eye of Falcon, sired while Luna stood near full, house Gleaming Eye. Son of Gilam "Cleaves shadows from Flesh" Warrior of the Fangs, grandson of Ludolf "Invokes the Ways" Nephew to King Calvin de Provence."

He levels his gaze back on the Get now. Such disrespect would not be ignored.

[Daniel] (fuck, phone)

[Daniel] [folks -- mindy called it 3 rage back!]

[Daniel] Three paces away, Daniel stops in his tracks. A low, rumbling growl rises in the Forseti's chest, barreled in this form, deep and thick.

"Don't push me, Son of Falcon."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] [Charisma + Expression + PB: Talk him down, make him listen]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8) [WP]

[Gabriella Bellamonte] The Glabro-formed man, all sloping brow and too-long canines, paused and turned his head, offering a side profile of his face, throwing into sharp relief how the bridge of his nose melded into his forehead, how his eyebrows hung over his eye sockets, how his jaw had grown much heavier, jutted out from underneath, and the neck it pushed away from strained with muscle and tension. Gabriella watched him, her eyes flicked to the Silver Fang she stood beside, then she moved.

Gabbie stood between the two now, close to Fons, back facing the Fenrir, hand remaining at his elbow, grasping the fabric of his coat sleeve as though she could hold him back by it physically if she really needed to. The other hand, however, reached up, touched bare fingers made cool by the chill of the night to his cheek and urged for him to look down, to meet her eyes. Tension and urgency licked through those fingers into his skin, and her voice was not ashamed of the fact that it pleaded.

"Please, Fons. S'il vous plaît, chevalier, n'en ont pas. Let it be, this once, this is not the place, not the time, please."

[Fons Van Der Noot] His eyes focus on Daniel now. His regal breeding all but smothering everything else out around him. The air about him is charged with in now, Daniel could feel it as it seemed to hold him up. A king does now bow to those he oversees, ever. Eyes locking on the Get now. Gabriella's words seemingly falling on deaf ears.

"Again I care little for you and your kin or else I would have moved in while you beat her near death. However you will not show me such disrespect as to snarl and shout at me like some lowly gwaner begging for scraps. Respect is my just due. I know you can feel it in your blood."

(Charm+Express+PB, diff Daniel's WP-1 (Notable Heritage)
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Fons Van Der Noot]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 5)

[Daniel] The hand that holds Izzy in place tightens, dull claws digging into the unconscious kin's back. With a low, rough snarl, the Forseti wheels to face the Fang.

"Your blood is mighty, Son of Falcon, but the respect you are due is not on account of your ancestors' deeds. It is due on account of your rank, which is equal to mine. As my peer, you did not deserve the manner in which I spoke to you, and for that you will have your apology -- when and where it is appropriate. Not now.

"Leave it be. I am bringing my kinswoman to my Jarl. Do not stand in my way again."

[Fons Van Der Noot] He turns up his chin as Daniel speaks of him, eyes watching as he moves Izzy once more, limp in his grasp.

"For what its worth, that kin has a sharp tongue indeed. I myself nearly struck her. However out of respect for the honor your tribe has shown and the pleading of my own kin my hand was stayed."

He motioned back to Gabbie when he spoke of his own kin, but continued.

"Please let your.." the word so foreign even to his own tongue.." Jarl know."

With that he turns from Daniel, the matter laid to rest as far as Fons was concerned. His eyes now falling upon his kin and watching her in the chill of this weather. Before speaking once more.

"I shall be heading home, please take care not to get yourself sick in this weather. All my attendants are still within my home sept, awaiting my call."

[Moira Murray] Moira thinks this isn't how Kemp would want Izzy delivered to him. Unconscious and a bloody pulp. Where exactly could Daniel take her anyhow as kinfolk were forbidden from the bawn. Her tongue clucks against the roof of her mouth in agitation, physically biting down on her tongue to keep herself from snapping at the Forseti, lest she find herself draped in a bloody heap over Daniel's other shoulder.

When Fons withdraws, turning to speak with Gabbie. Moira steps past them and towards Daniel. "Daniel."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Fons did not make matters worse, and neither did Daniel, god bless the both of them. The Fenrir admitted that apology was due, but not in this moment, and Fons accepted that as well enough. Gabbie looked over her shoulder at Daniel, hand having dropped away from Fons's face when he jerked his chin a little, when he ignored it and the words she had spoken as though she were nothing more than a child tugging at his pantleg.

He looked down to her again, spoke, and she glanced back to Daniel and Izzy and now Moira once more before shaking her head, sighing, and releasing Fons's sleeve and stepping back.

"No, I will come with."

Something flavored like defeat licked at those words.

[Fons Van Der Noot] Part of him only recently recognized the touch she had placed on his chin the moment ago. Just like last time when she pleaded with him to reign in his rage, to hold back from acting within the right of his blood. However this time he did not offer her a look of confusion.

This time it seems that she is defeated in this moment. But if he notices, he does not act on it. His only response is a bend of his elbow and an offering as her escort home, a civil act. If she accepts or not would be her choice.

"If you so wish."

[Daniel] The Fenrir is savage and tense. It took a great deal of will to force some semblance of control and thought into what he said; a great deal of -- he has to admit it -- humility to remember the laws by which he lives, and which, in a sense, he is meant to embody.

Respect. Rank. Discipline. Contrition where due.

Daniel's humility is as much a learned thing, a work in progress, as his stoicism and control. And some part of him, the same dark, bloody part from which stems all his terrible, astounding wrath, hoped Fons would not do exactly as he did.

But he does. And Broken Hammer's not-so-proverbial hackles lower. He pants out a short breath, licks his lips with a tongue flatter and longer than any human's would be.

"This kinswoman is not yours to strike. But the Jarl will hear of your restraint." Pause. "And of your counsel into my mind, though I was not ..."

He doesn't finish. They all know what he was not. In control. Sane. He turns away again; Moira follows him, and he grimaces in pique, a snarl.

"What?" He does not slow.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] And so, with a glance over her shoulder to the Fenrir and his kinswomen, one fallen, one standing, Gabriella sighed quietly and turned about, slipped her hand into the crook of Fons's offered elbow, and allowed him to escort her back to his home.

Her trek had been cut short, her search derailed, but she had a sinking feeling in her stomach that it would have yielded nothing but dead ends anyways.

[Moira Murray] Moira backs off a bit as he snarls at her. Her eyes focused on Izzy now trying to see if the unconscious kin is still breathing. "If you're going to carry her like that and walk, it may not be wise to go around the city in that form..."

She hangs back out of swatting distance, intent on following him as he walks.

[Daniel] Izzy is indeed still breathing. She doesn't look any better -- in fact, she probably looks worse -- but she's not dead yet.

"We're going on the rooftops. Go home, girl."

[Moira Murray] "No. I am coming with you."

[Daniel] A low growl in his throat. Then -- "Why?"

[Moira Murray] "Because she is still my kinswoman and I can heal her if the Jarl needs her to speak. Like that she is useless."

She narrows her eyes a little, "And how can I trust you not to do something else to her."

[Daniel] Daniel wheels on Moira abruptly. His hand comes out in a flash, grasping a fistful of the girl's coat, dragging her nearer. For a second she might see a flash of herself in Izzy's limp form -- or worse.

But; no. He simply bends to snarl in her face, low, full of menace: "Never accuse me of dishonor again, kinswoman. If I meant to kill her, I would have killed her already."

When he lets go, he pushes her soundly back.

"I can heal her," he adds. "The only reason I have not is because I will not hide what I have done. The Jarl will see the truth for himself, and he will hear it from me, full and unabridged. Now go home."

[Moira Murray] Something flashes in her eyes, which dare to meet his - narrowing. She might see a similar fate in Izzy's, but the girl does not quake as he might want her to. She doesn't back down. He snarls in her face, low and full of menace.

Moira waits until he releases her, skidding a little on the icy pavement as she finds her ground and stakes a firm stand - unmoving. Hands balling up at her sides into small fists. She will wait for Daniel to make the first move to leave.

[Daniel] Daniel waits a beat. Then:

"Do you really want to test me now, kinswoman? Now?

"GO."

[Moira Murray] Moira does not say a word, nor does she move.

[Daniel] It would be the easiest thing to leave now, and perhaps a man would. Daniel, however, is not a man but a Garou. He takes a step toward Moira.

"Do not challenge me, girl. I am in no mood for misbehaving kin. Walk away now, or limp away later. I am not asking again."

[Moira Murray] They were not done here - Moira and Daniel. Her eyes swim over the bloodied visage of Izzy's face, squinting her eyes as she contemplates sharing in the same fate as the other kinfolk, wondering if it even matters. She remembers the times that Decker has told her, gave her permission to tell another garou to get bent if they so much as bothered her...

Decker was not here in Chicago to back up those threats. Eagles never backed down... She tucks her head down so her eyes are not met with the Garou's. Her boots scuff against the pavement as she draws herself back ever so slowly, wary of Daniel. Her breath rolling out of her nose and mouth in a hot plume of warm air.

One step back and then two, her hands clenched so tightly at her sides the knuckles turned white. She takes a few more steps back, towards Izzy's car.

[Daniel] [thanks for the RP, guys! i gotta crash!]