Daniel Broken Hammer

[Joey] Last night, all but one of the Sentinels went out into the night, to patrol and protect the city that is their home. What they found out there last night was astonishing, to say the least. They and the lone wolf, She Who Offers Sorrow, found a pack of Red Talons in the city, on a rooftop as they broke through the Umbra. Something happened to at least one of their number at that meeting.

The last words Joey Oliver said before her ability to reason rationally, her ability to think like a human being was stripped from her mind, were:

Oh my god it's a fucking Red Talon.

She doesn't remember much after that. Her memory of the space between those words, and when she "woke" to find an enemy lupus bearing down on her unconscious brother, is foggy. Dreamlike. She remembers, though, that she not only disobeyed orders, she completely disregarded them. She paid for that last night, when her alpha brought her to the brink of death three times, once for each time she ignored him.

When the Sentinels returned to The Brotherhood last night, Joey was too exhausted to take a shower and clean from hersef the stain of her own blood and the blood of her enemies. So she shifted to her smallest form, and she curled up on the floor beside her bed, to sleep and to heal.

The Rotagar is cleaned now. She's in room 8, tugging a long-sleeved shirt over her blonde head. She's already in jeans and a faded t-shirt. Pulling a pair of clean socks from the top drawer of the dresser, Joey goes to her bed and pulls her sneakers from beneath the edge of the frame.

[Daniel] There's now space for four in Room 8, though at present only one body occupies it. That soon changes, and without warning: the air in the room abruptly expands outward as Daniel appears out of thin air.

The Forseti's a strange one. Quiet and alert as a ragabash; a spirit as strong as a theurge; the memory of a galliard when it comes to his own misdeeds; and blind wrath to rival any ahroun's.

He's a half-moon, though, charged with the dual and conflicting duties of absolute truth and absolute neutrality. The black and the white, the good and the evil, as well as the two faces to every issue.

The Forseti is ridiculously dressed for the weather. He's barely dressed at all. He has his underwear on, and nothing else. There's snow on his hair and snow ... oddly, along his back and flank. Running in lupus, then, which would explain why he's not freezing, why his teeth aren't chattering. He sits down on the bottom bunk of his bed and scuffs snow out of his shortcropped hair before it melts, then grabs a towel and wipes down whatever has already beaded to water.

"I have some questions about last night, sister," he says to Joey, "but I know you are still bound by your vow. So I will ask you questions, yes or no, and you may simply nod or shake your head. Will that be an acceptable compromise?"

[Joey] Joey's alone in room 8, and then suddenly she's not anymore. She doesn't startle or flinch when the empty space is filled with her nearly naked brother. The spirit wards put in place by the Sentinels' Theurge are gone now that the metis is dead, but still, Joey sits as if Daniel's appearance is not unexpected. When she turns to look at him, she can guess why he'd enter the room via the Umbra. She doesn't blush at his near nakedness, or duck her head away. Sharing a room together means all three Sentinels who live here have seen each other in various states of undress. And Joey proved months ago that she doesn't care who sees her without clothing.

She's gotten her socks on. When Daniel offers her a compromise, a way to communicate without breaking her vow, she's bent over to pick up one of her sneakers. Instead of putting it on, she sets it back on the floor, brow furrowed thought. It's a wonder he'd even ask or take her vow into account. After last night, it's very likely they all think she shattered that vow apart, when she spoke up over the totem link for the first time in weeks. The rules of the vow are flexible, however, and depend on what Joey thinks of what she wants to convey, if she wants to convey anything at all.

If Daniel has forgotten that, Joey sees no reason to remind him now. She sits up straight, pulling her legs up and turning so that she can face him while they "talk." Joey's spine is straight, her hands resting on her knees, but her head she keeps bowed.

She nods once.

[Daniel] Daniel gets right into it: "Did you mean to disobey orders?"

[Joey] Joey frowns. She shakes her head once.

[Daniel] "Were you frenzying?"

[Joey] Another shake.

[Daniel] "Possessed?"

[Joey] Another shake.

[Daniel] Daniel frowns, puzzled. He pushes his palms into his mattress and withdraws into the cave beneath the bunks, back to the wall.

After a moment, "You asked Hatchet last night if the Talons had ... done something to him. Is that what happened to you? They did something to you?"

[Joey] There's a short pause this time, before Joey answers. Then she nods once.

[Daniel] "Were you aware that you were disobeying orders?"

[Joey] Joey's brow furrows thoughtfully. She shakes her head.

[Daniel] "Were you aware there were orders at all?"

[Joey] She shakes her head again.

[Daniel] "Were you ... deafened somehow?"

[Joey] Joey's mouth quirks. Her right hand comes up to scratch just above her ear while she lets out a sigh. When her hands are back on her knees, with her chin still tilted in deference to Daniel, Joey raises dark eyes to meet his.

"Buried Hatchet said I could talk if it's important, fewest words. Can I describe?"

[Joey] [Joey and Dan are in room 8, but the door's open!]
to Daniel,

[Joey] [Joey and Dan are in room 8, but the door's open!]
to Daniel, Rory MacKenna

[Daniel] "If you think it's important," Daniel replies.

[Rory MacKenna] ((you guys mind if I join, It might fuck up your flow))
to Daniel, Joey

[Joey] Joey nods, once. She thinks about what she's going to say, how she can get it across clearly with the fewest words possible.

"Not deaf. No...thinking. Only instinct. No pack ranks? Only answer Alpha. Attack biggest, closest threats." Her head drops, her eyes go to the floor. "Like animal."

[Rory MacKenna] ((ok, i'm coming in. Hope i don't upset the scene. I tend to do that))
to Daniel, Joey

[Daniel] "Could you ... speak? Communicate at all?"

[Joey] Back to head shakes and nods for yes/no questions, Joey shakes her head.

[Daniel] Daniel frowns again, leaning down further in his bed, his shoulders to the wall now; the rest of him all but prone.

A sudden change of tack. "Do you think the Alpha is acting strangely?"

[Rory MacKenna] He walks slowly, calmly into room 8, hands in his pockets. He stops in the door way seeing the serious conversation that is going on. He looks at both of them. First at Joey and then at Daniel. "feck." It's quiet barely over a whisper. His Bostonian accent comes out immediately. He slouches his shoulders more than usual and allows the black Celtics hate to cover his eyes. This is a bit more serious than I expected. Just needed gas for my bike. He's not a menacing individual standing only 5'6", but underneath his brown hoody and leather jacket, one can still make out the size of the muscles on his body. He thinks for a moment. He lifts his head and tries to act friendly. He coughs. "Hey, uh...excuse me, folks. Didn't mean tah intah-rupt ya convasation, but I ran outah gas and saw this place and thought I'd be able to get some help on wheh to get some gas." He thinks about where he is, not the distance for society, but rather the state of Illinois. If either one of these fucks say "pahk the cah in hahvahd yahd to me... He smiles trying to seem inconspicuous. The scar that follows his lips from jaw to jaw makes his mouth look much like a puppets.

[Izzy Montoya] She enters via the backdoor, through the kitchen, and then dumps her armload of stuff onto the table in the corner booth that's become "hers" over the past few nights. She's a creature of routine, and has adapted this one easily enough, despite it's annoyances. In fact, one might say she's made it her own. Sarge is glad enough for her additional presence at work, despite the fact that he can't put her on the books for it, despite the fact that looking at her is driving many of the boys crazy. Just one word, that's all they want. One. They'll move out in mass if she just lifts a finger in one direction.

But she doesn't and they call her a stubborn ass bitch - behind her back - and try to figure ways to get the information. If not from her, from someone else. They have their ways, and one of theirs never gets beat without retaliation. Izzy simply ignores it all, and works twice as hard as she had before -and she was a machine before.

The rules state she must be here. They do not state she must sleep, or that she must be upstairs. Thus, she makes one trip to the bar, slides cash under the register, grabs the bottle of whiskey and a glass, and then settles into the booth. Soon, her laptop is powered on, file folders organized, and the evenings push of paperwork begins.

[Joey] The Hatchet they saw last night was not the same Garou Joey has known these past several months. None of them can ever be said to be completely "safe." They all exert some level of control over their rage, however strong, because it's Rage. The Garou are Gaia's Warriors, designed to spend their fury in battle to ensure victory over the Wyrm. That fury only gets stronger with time, makes them more unpredicable, more unstable.

Hatchet has more rage than most Ahrouns. Joey also knows that he has far more control than most of them, too. What they saw last night was not Hatchet-in-control. Joey was weak, and her weakness made her susceptible to a loss of control. She disregarded orders, acted like a wild beast. There is no doubt in her mind that she deserved punishment.

Daniel asks if she thinks the Alpha is acting strangely. Joey's dark eyes widen, and she nods. Unlike her answers to previous questions, Joey nods several times, emphatic.

And that is when a strange man steps into their doorway. At 5'6" most wouldn't think the man in the leather jacket is very menacing, but most who see Joey would think she was just an ordinary athletic teenager. She's pretty and tall and blonde, and last night when a corrupted Red Talon aimed its jaws for her brother, Joey tore out its throat.

As soon as his presence is sensed in the doorway, the Rotagar twists to face him, head down, eying him warily. He talks about finding The Brotherhood, making his way to the dorms on the second floor, as if this were just any ordinary restaurant with dormitory rooms. Daniel, and the rest of their pack, will feel Joey's end of the totem link open up, then abruptly closed.

Like a mouth opened to speak, then quickly snapped shut again.

[Daniel] There might've been more -- but Rory appears, stepping not merely to the door but into the room itself.

This is a crowded room. There are three beds in here, one of them a bunk. Three desks. Closest and dressers. Piles of crap on one of the desks, one of the beds.

In contrast, the bed that Daniel is currently rising out of -- instantly and with the sort of defensive bristling of a wolf defending turf -- is exceedingly neat. The blankets are folded at one end, the pillow stacked atop. The sheets are clean and crisp, though rumpled now where the Forseti had lain.

"Who are you?" he all but barks at Rory. "Where did you come from? What are you doing in here?"

[Rory MacKenna] Rory tries to seem polite as possible, not easy for a man with a massive scar across his face. He keeps his hands in his pocket and smiles sweetly, which makes him look more like a demon than a friendly soul. "Now, hold on a second, heah folks. I didn't mean to intah-rupt nothing. Just was driving through and ran outa gas. Figured that I could come in and find someone to help me out." He looks at both of them. This could become very bad very quickly. "I heahd ya voices and walked up the stairs. I don't usually walk into othah people's places like this, but it was the only place around here. So, I figahed I had to give it a try." What's my name? He looks the other man in the room. He tries to judge his features, it's hard to tell. Well, sometimes it's just better to tell the truth. Don't want to fuck this up. I don't know this guy. I don't know his style. If I have to I'll try other alternatives after this. "Names Rory." He does his best to enunciate his name. "And I know I look like a feckin' monsta' but I'm not. It's not really important wheh I got this." He points to his face. "I just need gas, and then I'll get the feck outta ya place. Give me a chance. If I wanted to haht anybody, I wouldn't have come in here anouncing that I was here." His dialect is rough, South Boston and street. He does his best to smooth it over

[manipulation + subterfuge, diff 8]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 8) [WP]

[Daniel] The Forseti -- because that's what he is, though Daniel doesn't have a drop of pure blood in him -- lifts his chin, narrows his eyes. Stripped down to old boxers, wiry-lean and almost devoid of even the most basic, insulating body fat, he's a barbaric thing, feral, not human at all.

He sniffs the air. Carefully, and for a long time.

"You're Garou," he states. It's not a question but a statement. There's a light, unplaceable accent in Daniel's voice, and a strange stiff formality to his speech. "Count yourself lucky to have stumbled blind upon your own kind. The Brotherhood of Thieves is a safehouse for all those of the Garou Nation. It is neutral territory, but this room belongs to the pack of Bear, the Sentinels.

"You will introduce yourself properly."

There's clear dominance in Broken Hammer's words, but his posture betrays a stark tension, a wariness on being intruded upon; an uncertainty of who, really, is the stronger wolf here.

[Joey] It doesn't matter where any of them got their scars. Joey has at least one clearly visible, a mass of pale scar tissue in a slash across her throat, where someone once tore it out, killing her.

Daniel rises, crosses the room to meet the intruder on their territory, and Joey is a step behind him. It's all the territory The Sentinels claim. This room, half of the one beside it, room 1, and a citrus green Camaro with black racing stripes parked in the back lot. They're theirs. Rory introduces himself. He spins a tale about a lack of gas, and finding The Brotherhood of Thieves, wandering into the kitchens and up to the second floor, around the hall and into their room as if he had no clue of where he'd found hisme.f If Joey could talk, or rather, if she thought it were important to speak now, she would snarl three words.

Bull. Fucking. Shit.

Daniel announces that the stranger is Garou, declares the intrusion for what it is. Joey stands behind him, at his shoulder, wary and tense, poised for a possible altercation. Of the two Garou in the room, her blood is the most notable. Joey carries with her an aura of breeding, of vikings and conquerors and Nordic heroes.

She says nothing, does nothing. Just waits.

[Rory MacKenna] Rory begins to shake his head in disdain and then stops. He nods. Fucking introductions. It's just so much easier living with humans. He backsteps out of the room and looks through the doorway. He looks at Daniel.

"Rory MacKenna, Fianna Ahroun and Cliath. My Sept is Staghead, Bahston. Permission to enter?" He waits outside calmly. Fucking Litany... He removes his hands from his pockets and set them at his side. There's no point in trying to explain anything else to them. He sniffs the air, but tries to do it as inconspicuously as possible. The males a Garou. He looks at the girl. In any other situation he might make kissy faces and other rude gestures, but he's in a strange Garou's home and mocking her would just lead to violence. I just want my fucking gas tank filled. He's tense, but not scared. If he has to fight the Garou he will. It would be the first blood he's shed outside the state of Massachusetts.

[Daniel] Daniel nods once, curtly. He stands his ground for a second or so after Rory's stopped moving, and only then sits back down on his bunk bed.

"I'm Daniel Broken-Hammer, Fenrir Half Moon and Cliath. This is my packmate Joey Laughs in the Face of Death, Fenrir No Moon and Cliath. She is under a vow of silence and likely will not be speaking to you. Do not take this as an insult.

"We are wolves of the Sept of the Maelstrom, packed under Great Bear. Our Alpha is Buried Hatchet, Fostern Half Moon of Stag's tribe, and your tribal leader in the city. He is not here right now. But you must present yourself to him if you want to stay in this protectorate."

[Rory MacKenna] "Don't take it as an insult." He says. Fucking Fenrir jackass. He smiles. And walks in. "Yeah, well...that's great will do. Buried Hatchet, got it." He nods. He looks at the almost naked man. How the fuck did I not notice this before. Well, catastrophe averted. Time to figure out how to get my bike moving. "But seriously, my bike is outside and out of gas. But, I'll leave you two to whatevah yah doing." He turns and leaves the room and through the halls to the stairs. He whistles as he walks. He sits down at the bar for a second and think. He speaks out loud to no one in particular. "How close is closest gas and is it closah than the nehest packy?" He shakes his head and get up and walks out the door to his motorcycle. He stares at it intently.

[Grace] She was looking for Echo.

Somewhere, Grace got it into her head that, if anyone could put things on her iPod, it would be a Glass Walker. She wanted more music. Or another book, or something that would teach her French or Estonian. (God, that was going to be an awkward thought: what if Grace understood and grasped the entirety of Estonian before she understood English. Who even speaks Estonian anyway?)

but no matter, the lupus, in a pair of jeans recently laundered and a shirt that had holes in the collar, wandered off to room eight, holding her iPod.

Someone was looking for something, though, and she thought, and finally-

There was a man moving and leaving room eight, talking about how to find the closest gas station. She looks genuinely pleaed, because she knew and understood one thing: that man was looking for something. And Grace was good, very very good, at finding things.

She isn't entirely certain what humans do, but whether the door was open or not, she knocks on it anyway.

[Izzy Montoya] Someone comes into the bar, sits down, says something, and then bangs right back outside again. Izzy hardly has time to lift her gaze, start to form an answer, before he's gone again. She just sakes her head, refills her drink, and goes back to her paperwork.

[Echo] Echo Quinn never does bother to announce herself, she just appears like some 5'7 apparition of lean muscle and dark looks. Hair, eyes; both dark and the latter far more alert and intelligent than most deem to attach to her. The Glass Walker had been working, and it was in her work that her blood ran truest of all. She could try and speak of her job, of the sensation she felt strapped to her seat in the cabin, her fingers gripping the throttle, her feet pushing at the pedals, of the knowledge that as the Helicopter grew light on the skids and began to lift off, she was the only one keeping it from faltering left or right -- she was what kept the entire thing level, her focus, her knowledge kept the heading.

And once in the air, with the beating of the blades above her, gaining altitude, the city spread out beneath her like a glittering carpet -- she was home, and she was never more content.

Now, however, someone [Grace] is looking for her and she'll Echo Quinn moving down from the roof, even though it's fucking freezing outside, still dressed in her flight uniform with a coat thrown over it and smelling like cigarettes.

[Echo] [ahem, she'll find, words in places are good.]

[Joey] Daniel sits back down. With that movement, the tension melts from Joey. She's not completely at ease, but at least there is no longer a sense that she's going to leap across the distance and bite his face off.

She does that sometimes. Bites faces. It's not something she generally does in homid, however.

Rory's bike needs gas. Joey steps to her desk, the tidy one closest to the door, finds a notebook, a pen, and tears out a blank page. Before she can so much as get a line onto the paper, the Ahroun is gone. Joey glances once over her shoulder at Daniel, then goes back to her blank sheet. She works quickly, hastily. And then she's off, running down the hall, down the stairs and into the kitchen. She peeks out into the dining room, just in time to catch his back as he heads out the front door.

Growling, Joey runs out the door leading from the kitchen to the alley behind The Brotherhood. In her socks. In less than 30 degree weather without a coat. The desert girl has come a long way since the weather began to turn back in September. Joey races around the building with all the speed and power she used to use rounding second to third base, and third to home. When she catches the Ahroun, she's not even out of breath.

Silently, she holds out the sheet of notebook paper to him. On it is a map of the area, with gas stations. And approximate prices. And hastily jotted notes about the closest garages.

[Rory MacKenna] He stares at the bike. Well, I know what's wrong with it. The fucking thing is out of gas. But how do I alleviate this problem. He stares at bike, as if his mind would force it to run. Son of a bitch, I'm actually going to have to deal with those fucks to get what I want. Fenrir Jackass. He paces back and forth. He turns around to see a woman in front of him. Taller than him. "Well, Hello." He smiles. He looks at the paper. He frowns. "Oh...thanks." He takes the paper from her hands, puts it in his pocket. "...thanks..." He repeats it again, slowly. Something about her not speaking makes him feel like he's speaking to a handicapped person, and this causes him to speak slowly. As if she wouldn't understand him otherwise. He walks away from her and leans back his bike and kicks his legs up on the ape hanger handle bars. He pulls the paper from his pocket and stares at it. "Son of a bitch, gas is really that much..." He calms. "Ok, so i'll have to go..." He starts to map his root in his head.

[Rory MacKenna] ((route))

[Grace] She waited by the door of room eight, but hears no sound nor does she see familiar sights of the Glass Walker in question.

It was strange, because as she went to go look for her in the usual haunts, rather than getting on four legs and simply sniffing for the Glass Walker, she was musing about the weaver of all things. It made sense, of course, because she was looking for Echo. It made sense because she was in a city, and she wondered, briefly, what things looked like from the other side. How solid this particular structure was in the umbra.

Half a grin started to cross her face and now she was looking for Echo for a different reason. She needed to acquire a Fostern.

[Daniel] It's probably best that Rory didn't ask Daniel where to get gas. He would've received little more than a blank stare. It's Joey that passes the information on, though, literally running out of room 8 -- right past Grace, most likely -- to catch up with the departing Ahroun.

For his part, Daniel stays behind. He withdraws into the little alcove his bottom bunk creates, throws a blanket over himself, and closes his eyes. Time to sleep.

[Joey] He thanks her, and the corners of Joey's mouth begin to lift in a small smile. And then he repeats himself, slowly, as if there's something fundamentally wrong with her brain and she won't understand that one single word. The smile...vanishes. Over the past several months, Joey has grown increasingly more withdrawn, more silent and subdued. This Garou doesn't know that, however. He doesn't know anything about Joey beyond what Daniel said up in room 8.

All he knows is that she's silent, and that right now her expression is absolutely deadpan. It's an Are you serious? kind of look.

She follows him over to his bike, circling it once, ignoring the absolutely frigid cold, the wind that tries to slice through her skin when it whips across the street. Her attention is focused on the Harley. She can't tell him that she knows what it is, or that she could fix practically anything that could ever go wrong with it (except for his current fuel issue).

He starts to assert his route in his head, and Joey fights the urge to play dumb, to act like maybe Daniel made this map for him. Instead she walks around the bike again to look over his shoulder at the map she made. She reaches out to take it from him, if he'll let her, and she turns it 90 degrees. Taps the little square marked "Broho," jerks her thumb over her shoulder at the restaurant. And she points in the direction he'll want to start off in.

[Echo] The urrah in question appears as though she was summoned by the Cub, her pack of Marlboro's in hand, making her way casually down the hall toward Room 8. She's yawning, and stretching her arms high above her head, doing something of a dance as she does and then the yawn develops into a smile as she catches sight of Grace.

"Hey, kid," she greets her with a nudge, tucking her smokes into a pocket in her coat, her dark hair tousled around her face in stylish disarray. "You waiting for someone or did Daniel throw you out?"

[Grace] "Do you have iTunes?" she asks.

Grace doesn't know everything about life in a city, but she knows what iTunes does.

[Echo] The No Moon's eyebrows do a caterpillar dance, she adopts a true Brooklyn attitude and opens her coat wide, swinging back and forth. "Baby I got iTunes, I got iWork, I got iLife, I got the entire works for you right here, you want quality, I can get you quality, right here, right heeeere." She laughs, and drops the act.

"What you need somewhere to plug in? I got a laptop if you want. Lemme get it."

[Rory MacKenna] The paper is gone from his hands, and he pauses, staring at the air between his two hands. He looks up and sees the *deaf* woman. He stares at her upside down as he points in the direction to go. He frowns. "...I...see..." It isn't slow this time. Just shocked. He smiles. "Thanks, dahling." He swings his legs down and looks walks over to Joey. He plucks the paper out of her hand. "Right, that way, Got it." He goes back to his bike and leans back the way he was. The rain feels good on his face. He sits up and swings his legs again and walks behind the bike and pushes it closer to the side of the building to shed himself from part of the elements. He leans back a third time. He stares at the paper. He puts it back in his pocket, now soaked. He closes his eyes on the bike and enjoys the cool crisp air on his face. He lifts his head and pulls the hooded sweat shirt's hood over his Celtics hat and calmly, sits.

[Daniel] (thanks for the play!)