[Inspiration] He sits on a park bench with his Mac Powerbook - 13 inch screen - sitting on his lap. He has an ear bud in left ear and he quietly speaks on the Iphone slipped in his left pocket. He has well shined prada black leather shoes on, His charcoal slacks have slipped up his ankles enough to show purple silk socks which match his purple pocket square. His black bow tie is mildly messy sitting around his neck, and under the collar of his white, creased dress shirt. His well-shined, black belt with a muted chrome buckle sits around his waist. The typing of his fingers isn't heard over the music coming from his Mac laptop. 'Roll On' - Kid Rock. He taps his foot with the music absent mindedly, he would be smiling if his face gave away any emotion. He nods and continues the light speaking to the person inside his ear bud.
[Gina McClaren] *Great. NOW it was raining. Well at least it was warming up, a veil of heavy clouds drawn grey over the city, trapping heat and smog closer to the glass and concrete terrain. Gina's ducked inside a small wooden gazebo set up with chess tables. In summer it would be a Park hotspot. In the slush and drizzle of winter, it was abandoned and lonely. A convienant place for a smoke however, and so the curvy kin lights one up, leaning back on the railing with a slow drag and a heavy sigh. Was that - She blinks , watching a man blandly tapping his foot, using his laptop in the pouring rain. *
[flaw!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)
[Inspiration] His hair would be matted down if he hadn't just had it buzzed again. His eyebrows give away his red hair color. The computer looks diminutive in his lap, as he's 6 feet 7 inches in height and 25 stones in weight, he continues to speak and type in the pouring rain. He wipes the screen of the computer periodically. Good thing he bought the extra long warranty on his computer. This causes the endorphins in his mind to cause what would amount to a smile in another person's body. He just continues to type, flatly. New song blaring aloud on his laptop. 'Trap Star' - Young Jeezy. He mouths the words in between law jargon. Through the rain the smell of kin travels over his nose. Strider. He pauses in his typing and lifts his head. He looks around the area, not wanting to get up and spill his laptop into the puddle gathering around his prada pointed, dress shoes.
[Gina McClaren] *Curiosity is one of a strider's many vices. Its certainly one of THIS striders many vices, and the pretty kin finds herself watching the nearly bald businessman with a look of incredulity. Another drag off her smoke, she's trying to figure out what on Earth he could be thinking. Where her curiosity all that needed sated right now, she'd no doubt be within shocking distance, yabbering at the man as to what the hell he was up to, getting soaked herself. Instead, its a nicotine fit that demands her attention, smoke ashed in the slush.*
[Oncoming Storm] Theron didn't visit Grant Park that often, the few times that he had seemed to end in a battle with some creature of the Wyrm. But today there was a different reason, he'd phoned Gina and left her a message that he'd like to see her. A short conversation, filled with small pleasanties... her musical voice whispering into his ear. A time and meeting place agreed too and then the conversation ended.
He hadn't been waiting long, but he'd made sure he was early, a look up at the clouds as they threatened and then delivered rain. Letting the cool liquid splash over his olive skin. But soon the rain came down harder, so he was forced to draw his coat around him. Wondering if Gina had been caught in this , he starts moving to find her and seek shelter together.
Theron passes a man working on his laptop... in the rain.. the Theurge just shakes his head.. some people were crazy. He stops though as even at this distance the man's beast seeps out of his pores and washes over him. Watching as the man lifts his head and then Theron turns as he follows the man's gaze. Spotting Gina in the gazebo, his mouth curling at the corners into a smile.
[Inspiration] He opened the brown leather messenger bag sitting on the bench next to him and closes the wet laptop and places into the messenger bag. He stands and slings the bag over his head and pulls his right arm through so it's sitting diagonal across his chest. Much like Toucan Sam he follows his nose and begins to travel toward the kin. He continues to speak on the phone and moves closely. He pauses as he notes the scent of a second Garou -- Shadow Lord. He would frown if his visage would give way for emotion. There was thing he couldn't stand - a character flaw above all others -- a complete intolerance for liars. He weighed his thoughts for a second. If worried crossed his mind for a second, it was only a second and then quickly passed, he shook his head and then walked toward the gazebo. "Yes, Victor, I'm listening." His voice was low and deep. There was no inflection in it. Total lack of emotion. Pausing between words equidistant apart. He continued the steps toward the Strider and the Shadow Lord.
[Gina McClaren] *Tall, strange, expressionless, and - approaching? Oh this didn't strike her as a good scene. Gina straightens to her full 5 feet, backing away from the railing as Inspiration moves towards her. A glance over her shoulder has her scanning the area for stuttering Get, slinking redheads or deadly bumpkins. More often than not, they could be found nearby, one or the other keeping a little kin safe. Unseen. As they were today, if they were near at all. It was so very difficult to tell. Her voice raises lyrical against the patter pat of the rain.*
Wha ye after loves? Need somethen?
* A huff slips through her teeth before she sees Theron. Soft features grow less tense as the caramel kin takes a pull of smoke and raises a hand in releived hello to the shadowlord.*
Peaches!
[Oncoming Storm] Theron raised an eyebrow at the man who approached, totally expressionless. It was strange to Theron there was not at least something to read on the other Garou's face. Watching him carefully, to see how he moved, what his intentions were as the distance between them was shortened.
Eyes watching carefully the interactions between this unknown man and the kin he knew.
But then that sing-song voice calls out too him and Theron's visgage is drawn back to the Strider kin. Raising his hand in return as he proceeds to head in her direction. Taking a seat next too her "Hey there, glad you managed to escape the rain." Running fingers through his own wet hair.
[Inspiration] As he made it to the gazebo, across the rail from the kin. She backs away. He sighs, but the only noticeable change is the slumping of his shoulders. Why does this always happen. He shakes his head.
"Actually, no. Just relatively new to the area and trying to meet new people." A 6 feet 7 inches, 25 stone man, just 'trying to meet new people' sounds ridiculous, but in Krause's case -- true. He nods in greeting.
"Donnelly Angus Cathal Soren Egan-Krause 'Warrior's Inspiration', Son of Ullrich Cathal Krause 'Bane of Jormangundr' , Grandson of Niall Angus Egan 'Rips at the heart of the Wyrm'. Nice to meet you, Ms. Strider." Full name, always the full name. Drumming in voice, constantly deeply drumming.
He slipped inside and out of the rain -- as much as a lumbering ogre of a man can 'slip' inside a gazebo. He leaned against the rail of the construction and removed his messenger bag. He runs his left hand over his shaved head to remove the raindrops, he drips on the floor of the gazebo making a small puddle around his black, prada shoes.
[Inspiration] "What, Victor? Sorry? I have to go. Something has come up, we'll speak about the Chicago beautification project tomorrow at work. Yes, bye."
It's amazing how he can hold such a fluid conversation and still be pausing equidistant between words without inflection. He removes the ear bud from his ear and places the whole iphone in his messenger bag. He hears the Shadow Lord speak, and finally *notices* him. He nods.
"Hello, Sir. Donnelly Angus Cathal Soren Egan-Krause 'Warrior's Inspiration', Son of Ullrich Cathal Krause 'Bane of Jormangundr' , Grandson of Niall Angus Egan 'Rips at the heart of the Wyrm'. Nice to make your aquaintance."
It wasn't. His purebreed ((3)) shows through, but so does his mixed heritage ((Fianna/Fenrir)). He would have tried to smile at the enchanging of pleasantries, but it was impossible for him to do. His mouth could not change from the set neutral look it always was in.
[Gina McClaren] *Gina didn't know what a fishfork was. She didn't know how to behave in a fancy restaurant, or what the hell the difference between champagne and chardonney was. They were both booze, right? Gina had never been afforded the benefit of a highschool science class, or charm school, and could boast no high brow ettiquette. But there were things a person learned when they grew up with cut throats and theives. Lessons that made her aware of her positioning. A many-ringed hand rests on Theron's shoulder in silent communication of familiarity. A wordless affirmation. "I'm with him." She doesn't flop on his lap or hang off him as she might in another setting. Oh no, she allows him ease of movement. No pikey to dump off his lap so as not to be a sitting duck should the tall man with the stoney face be trouble. Inspiration speaks, and that dull monotone has her skin crawling, a worried glance at his messenger bag and the laptop stored within. Still she wets her lips and singsongs nervously.*
Allo Donnelly loves. Name's Gina.
[Oncoming Storm] Theron watches the tall man with interest, like he was trying to put together all the pieces of a rather large puzzle. The man's rage washing over him now, Theron could almost taste the man's breeding. Having none of his own, Theron's olive hued skinned the only suggestion of his own mixed heritage.
"Pleased to meet you , I am Theron Locke, Eyes of the Oncoming Storm, Cliath Theurge of the Shadow Lords and member of the Unbroken under Perun."
He feels the soft touch of a ringed hand on his shoulder , turning his head as he offers Gina a smile. Also leaning into her somewhat protectively as if providing his own strength to the affirmation she provides to Donnelly. "So Donnelly, I take it that your new in town?"
[Inspiration] "Cliath Modi, Fianna."
He nods again. The drumming continues. He notices Gina's trepidation. He pauses --
"No need to be worried. It's a long story, but I have trouble emoting. I'm not looking to create a scene." He hopes this calms her, but without emotion, the words seem somewhat lacks and hallow. He turns his attention to Theron again, and continues.
"Yes, I've been transferred from Philadelphia to work on a project dealing with beautifying the greater Chicago area. And put scum behind bars. I work as a lawyer for a well known firm in the city. And about you, sir?"
[Wyrmbreaker] [ow.]
[Inspiration] ((ow?))
[Wyrmbreaker] [was punted!]
[Gina McClaren] *Gina, is 100% confused. A modi Fianna? That - didn't make sense. Though it was possible she was misunderstanding something, she'd only been kin a few years afterall. Details still sometimes escaped her. Her hand tightens a little on Theron's shoulder, Donnelly's demeanor doing little to set her at ease, though she offers a thinly attempted smile. This man reminded her of past unpleasantness, and his confusing false sounding introduction was doing nothing to dispell the general sense of "Wrongness" about him. He seemed. Well.. he seemed weavery.*
[Wyrmbreaker] Under Perun, Theron says. The truth is, they're not under Perun right now and haven't been since the night of the moot. Perun isn't talking to them, and Perun isn't returning their calls. Or their texts. It's still another week -- longer, likely, after the whole Edward/Kate debacle -- before he'll even respond to their attempts at placation.
Inspiration doesn't need to know that, though, and neither does Gina. They don't need to know that it's pure chance that brings Wyrmbreaker through the same stretch of park that Theron is in, and not the instinctive tug of a pack bond. When Wyrmbreaker walks up the steps behind Theron, he feels, for a moment, like any other wolf of high rage might: unstable, crackling, lightning-blooded. Impossible to tell if it's friend or foe, stranger or acquaintance.
Then he comes alongside Theron and is recognizable. A tall man, darkhaired, pale eyed. His coat is thigh-length, warm dark wool. The collar is turned up, and he wears no scarf. He looks curiously at Gina's hand on Theron's shoulder; nods at the woman. Turns his eyes to Donnelly.
"I think I've seen you at the moot," he says. His voice is startling: scratchy, jumping, hideous. Any Garou would recognize it as the Voice of the Jackal. He holds his hand out, clasping forearms with Inspiration briefly if the man returns the gestures. "Wyrmbreaker, Ahroun of Thunder."
[Gina McClaren] Jaysus! *The roll of rage up her spine, all around her, its ebough to put anyone with half a wit on edge. Monsters not just under the bed anymore, but in the bed, at the dinner table, in every corner and shopping mart and park gazebo. Dark eyes cast up to the Shadowlord Ahroun, an open wince at his voice, before she singsongs in sweet alarm.*
Fook Me Lukas... Wha the hell's wrong wi yer voice? Yer still banjanxed then?
*A caramel hand slips from the theurge's shoulder to dig about in the leather satchel at her hip, sorting through wallets and trinkets and papers until - Halls cough drops are offered up in a palm. Strider kin motioning he take them with a bounce of her fingers.*
[Inspiration] He thought of the words coming out of his mouth. His home tribe showing. 'Modi' he had said. I am now Fianna. His mother's tribe. Growing up as a Fenrir was not a *fun* experience for the red headed mixed-breed. He knew the Fenrir would soon enough smell his breeding and challenge his tribal claim. He feels the clasp of the Shadow Lords hand and clasps back.
"Yes, well met. Thank you. Warrior's Inspiration, Mod- Ahroun, Fianna. Please, call me Krause. Good to see you again, Wyrmbreaker. How goes it." He ignores the Voice of the Jackal. His own voice dry, emotionless, slow in formation, drumming. "What brings you to the area, Ahroun of Thunder?"
It's odd, he seems more at peace with this Shadow Lord, than the other. Maybe because they both share the same Auspice, maybe because they share similar voice deficiencies. The endorphins flood to his mind during the embrace of the two's arms, another man would have smiled. Not Krause.
[Oncoming Storm] Theron's brow knits into a frown at the title the Garou gives himself. A mix of two cultures that left the Lord very confused.
"It's okay ....I think that just with things as they are in this city. Newcomers put people on edge, I don't intend to make you feel unwelcome at all."
"Hmm sounds like a challenging project. I've been in town for a few months now, I've just started assisting the Hill House organisation at a few of their clinics. Putting my medical skills to use where I can."
He feels Gina's grip tighten at his shoulder, and he places a hand on hers reassuringly. And then his Alpha is behind him, the Ahround's rage announcing his presence and not the faint touch of pack. He turns his head to Lukas and greets him "Evening Lukas, didn't expect to see you here." he says calmly, it seemed the Theurge didn't have a problem with his Alpha's presence.. just surprise to see him.
[Wyrmbreaker] [gonna be slow guys, gotta take care of an admin issue]
[Inspiration] ((Do you, man. No problem))
[Oncoming Storm] {{ all good.. gathered.}}
[Inspiration] He releases the grasps from the Ahroun Shadow Lord, and returned his gaze to the Thuerge.
"I've heard of this Hill House, I've been told they do good work. My firm works with them sometimes in finding people who are treated by them local, cheap housing. The problem is we usually only can find housing in Cabrini-Green. I've been there only once, had the wheels stolen off of my Firebird, and found the vehicle up on blocks when I returned from a consultation." He places his hand in his pocket -- right -- and fiddles with his Pontiac Firebird keys.
"The organization seems to be a prosperous one though. Slower work than a man of the Thunder is used too, I can imagine. But still hindering the 'Breaker of swords' from getting a claw rooted into Chicago." Pause. Dammit The Fenrir's kennings are still colloquial to him.
[Gina McClaren] *Whether Lukas takes the offered cough drops or not, the diminutive Indian girl tucks the remainder in her satchel and leans back against a checkers-table, arms folded under her breasts as she regards Inspiration with vague suspicion. Never trust a man with a laptop. And Krauss? What was that german? Russian? It sure as hell wasn't irish or scottish. Things weren't adding up for a pretty little kin. That usually meant trouble. The toe of a brown leather boot touches Theron's shoe idly, kinfolk uncharacteristicly silent. Listening to the bland strictly patterned cadence of Don's speech. Bangles clink as she drags her hair back off her shoulder and rubs at a temple, before folding her arms once more. Posture closed.*
[Jesmond Krutova] Agora.
It was on one of the post-cards she'd purchased from a street-vender. Magdalena Abakanowicz' moving nine foot tall headless torsos, made out of cast iron and situated along the southwest side of Grant Park.
There were 106 of the figures, and they all seemed to be moving in different directions; at once a part of the crowd and apart from it. There were no arms attached to any of the figures, just torsos -- and legs. Legs so they could trudge endlessly onward. Jesmond wasn't certain if she found the exhibition inspiring, or horrendously depressing, reflection on a survivor's time during the War that it was.
Still, she had navigated her own way to the area of the park it resided in and stopped before it; just another visitor to stand on damp grass and scrutinise another human being's outward expression of self. It was cold, far too cold to linger long for a native of warmer climates and so the solitary figure walked onward, cutting a path in the same direction as several of the torsos.
Her breath misted before her; and no matter the quality of the spun cotton coat she wore, the icy fingertips of Chicago winter seemed to creep beneath it; chilling her bones. To a stranger's eye she was no more or less than anyone else walking the paths of the park at this time of night. No more or no less than any other young woman with dark looks and the dash of breeding about her.
Of course, most Jesmond Kr&+367;tová passes do not score her based on her heritage, most have baser methods. Tall, slender, attractive in a European way, that is more the style of strangers. But not wolves, of course. To them she is a walking enticement; a history of ages past all writ in her face; in her bones.
[Jesmond Krutova] Agora.
It was on one of the post-cards she'd purchased from a street-vender. Magdalena Abakanowicz' moving nine foot tall headless torsos, made out of cast iron and situated along the southwest side of Grant Park.
There were 106 of the figures, and they all seemed to be moving in different directions; at once a part of the crowd and apart from it. There were no arms attached to any of the figures, just torsos -- and legs. Legs so they could trudge endlessly onward. Jesmond wasn't certain if she found the exhibition inspiring, or horrendously depressing, reflection on a survivor's time during the War that it was.
Still, she had navigated her own way to the area of the park it resided in and stopped before it; just another visitor to stand on damp grass and scrutinise another human being's outward expression of self. It was cold, far too cold to linger long for a native of warmer climates and so the solitary figure walked onward, cutting a path in the same direction as several of the torsos.
Her breath misted before her; and no matter the quality of the spun cotton coat she wore, the icy fingertips of Chicago winter seemed to creep beneath it; chilling her bones. To a stranger's eye she was no more or less than anyone else walking the paths of the park at this time of night. No more or no less than any other young woman with dark looks and the dash of breeding about her.
Of course, most Jesmond Kr&+367;tová passes do not score her based on her heritage, most have baser methods. Tall, slender, attractive in a European way, that is more the style of strangers. But not wolves, of course. To them she is a walking enticement; a history of ages past all writ in her face; in her bones.
[Jesmond Krutova] [ack, double post! sorry.]
[Inspiration] ((no worries))
[Oncoming Storm] Theron nods "Yeah they do good work I agree. Sorry about the problems you ran into, but yeah sounds kinda typical of the area?" He shrugs slightly
"Slower work yes... but I don't mind that, helps to keep me out of trouble and do something lasting for the city. To both harm and heal in a way... I'm not a fighter all the time."
Strangely a small smile tugs at the corners of Theron's mouth, as the toes of a boot touched his. Maneuvering his foot as he touched it back against hers. Leaning into her as he whispers ever so quietly "Are you okay...want to leave?"
[Danicka Musil] She has a black umbrella, like most people in the city, but the underside of it is covered with a printing of blue sky, white fluffy clouds. She has boots on that take her up a few inches over her natural height, the heels themselves broad enough that they don't sink needle-like into the grass with every step. She's standing near the same exhibition that Jesmond finds herself at, but the two women couldn't be more different in appearance.
Jesmond's eyes are wild and intense, a piercing blue; Danicka's are murky and indistinct, mottled green and amber. Jesmond's hair is luxuriously dark; Danicka's is golden. Jesmond is tall; Danicka is average.
But they have these things in common: they're dressed well. And their blood sings, and though the mood of each song is different, they are offered in the same language. Also this: they are both contemplating a rather intense piece of art. The rain patters on Danicka's umbrella. The question of whether or not she's noticed Jesmond is answered a moment later, when she says to the woman who has started to walk away: "Do you need a ride somewhere?"
[Wyrmbreaker] "The voice," Lukas replies wryly, taking one of Gina's offered cough drops out of politeness, "is the consequence of a recent error. Thanks for the cough drop."
And he pops one. Mmm, minty.
[Gina McClaren] Shite darlin. Ye sound a horror.
*Apology warms exotic features, strider kin tilting her head intimately as Theron murmurs near her ear. His wet hair played with idly before she's shaking her head. Shoulders jumping in a shrug thats equal parts nochalance and quiet resignation.*
Talk at yer Alpha, darlin. Ah'm gintae slip o'er tae starbucks. Let a spot o tea warm me bones. Ah'll meet ye there, effen need be.
*That said, she gives the theurge a smile thats all familiar charm, before jingling away - Donnelly given a wide berth as she heads out through the slush on a mission for Earl grey.*
[Oncoming Storm] Theron smiles as her fingers move in his hair, watching the shrug and then offering a small sigh of worry as she stands and begins to move away.
"Okay then.. I'll try and see you there. I'll give you a call if I can't make it." His eyes watching her leave before returning to the two Ahroun's still in his presence.
[Jesmond Krutova] Dearest Ari, she had begun several post-cards with it and each one had seemed unfitting. Too frivolous for a three year old having it read aloud to him by an old Kinswoman against a fire. It rains in Chicago often and as I step through puddles I recall watching you count them and my heart aches for you because you are so far from me.
No, she would never have sent anything so pitiable to her son. Not when he was cared for by her mate's people. They would never have allowed such a mournful tiding to reach him; it would have been crumpled in a coarse, strong fist and tossed into the fire, fuel for the blacksmith as he forged their weaponry.
Her postcards were turning soggy in her hand; and raindrops beaded the dark lashes when she suddenly finds herself being addressed by a stranger beneath an umbrella whose underside was optimistic about the brooding skies above them.
"Oh," she tastes rainwater when she parts her lips to speak. "No, thank you, I know where I am." In the vaguest sense of the word. Water pinged off the cast iron casts between them; and the taller, darker female studied the other for a minute or two before she tucked the post-cards in one pocket and exchanged it for a map of the city.
"More or less. Do they make maps obscure simply to taunt us?"
Dearest Ari, your mother's sense of direction is unchanged. She got muddled on a walk to the Park, and had to ask a stranger to read the map for her.
[Danicka Musil] "Of course not," Danicka says mildly, reaching into the pocket of her wool coat and removing a sleek little toy with an Apple emblem on the back. She thumbs over the screen a few times, continuing: "Maps are like numbers, though. Treat them right, arrange them prettily, know their language, and..."
She shrugs, and looks up at Jesmond. "They'll tell you whatever you want to know. Where are you headed?"
[Oncoming Storm] {{ apparently Chd has headed off to bed because it was late... no exit post provided ))
to Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker] Gina goes for Starbucks. Donnelly wanders off. Then it's just Lukas and his packmate, the Ahroun sucking on a coughdrop as he watches Gina walk around.
When he turns back, his expression is dubious. "Another one, huh? In love with this one too?"
[Oncoming Storm] Theron raises an eyebrow at Lukas and then just laughs softly "I guess I deserve that. But no I don't think so... well that's not even entirely true. Perhaps the more truthful answer is that I don't know.... we are friends at least though and enjoy spending time together." he shrugs slightly
"Maybe I've taken your words to heart Rhya and seeing the truth of things. Time will determine if I find love and with who, but there is nothing stopping me from allowing that opportunity to find me."
"Is that an acceptable answer?" tilting his head as he waits for a response "Perhaps after my chat with Kate the other night, I've decided that I need to learn to pick my battles.... sacrifice the occasional one to win the war. It was my arrogance and fear that made me challenge for Rosanna.... when I may have fared better had I watched and waited, gaining a better a foothold."
[Jesmond Krutova] A small address book is extracted from the brunette's pocket, and held open over the map as she reads an address from it. "1822 South Bishop, I know it's in the Loop, but I can't locate it on this." For all her dark, foreign looks, there isn't a trace of anything but what might well be a Californian upbringing coming from the tall female that walks across damp grass to close distance between herself and her savior of the evening.
The coat she wears is indeed fine, tailored and cuffed with black buttons to meld with the dark charcoal color, but the cuffs are also beginning to show signs of wear and the slacks beneath are out of style, more serviceable than fashionable. Her shoes are black, flat-soled lace ups, very much the style of someone accustomed to long hours on their feet.
"Thank you for the help," is added, with a polite degree of sincerity, when she is near enough that the pattering of rain does not limit the words reaching Danicka's ears. "It is kind," she adds, as if this is a surprising discovery for her to have had within the limits of a city.
[Danicka Musil] Her eyebrows lift a bit at Jesmond's gratitude, but then she just shrugs a shoulder, smiling. "It's courtesy," she says, and turns her eyes back to the map on her iPhone's screen. "Here," she says, handing the woman her umbrella to hold, while she strokes a fingertip across the yellow and line-covered image. Then there's tapping, while she enters the address Jesmond is looking for. "I saw you walking through the rain and wondered if you were lost; it's too cold to be letting yourself get soaked."
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas relents after a moment, exhaling. "I wasn't looking for any particular answer. Truth be told, I was rubbing your face in what happened with Rosanna. Maybe that's unkind of me, but you'd do well to remember that every single time you're as convinced as ever that this one's the one -- until she isn't."
There are chess tables under the gazebo's roof, though it's too cold out for anyone to be playing. No pieces out, either. The Ahroun goes over to one, brushing droplets of water off the surface. Then he turns back to his packmate, jerking his head in the direction of the paths -- a mute invitation to follow and walk.
"And if you've really learned to pick your battles, you've learned a basic tenet of Perun. It's not really that he forbids us to lose. It's that he forbids us to fight stupidly."
[Jesmond Krutova] "It is cold, here," she says to Danicka, considering, as she accepts the umbrella into her glove-less fingers and holds it above them both, curving herself so that she can glimpse the electronic screen. There's surprise in the eyes of the taller Kinfolk when she sees how simply an address can be traced with the small device. It is unusual, her degree of surprise at seeing what a common known program of cell-phones can accomplish. "Colder than I had expected."
But then, she had alternated climates recently, none greater than from the warmth of California to Illinois.
"I went out for post-cards, silly, a trifling thing to get so wet and bedraggled for." She smiles them, the words and tilts her face, strands of near-black hair cling to her neck where the rain had persistently hammered them. "But I don't mind it, so much, the water. It's the disorientation that that I dislike."
[Oncoming Storm] Theron nods and relaxes himself "Well consider my face rubbed anyway, but it won't need to be done again as I'm a fast learner. As for being convinced, well perhaps I still am... but I have decided that sometimes it pays to be more shaded about your intentions. Over recent months I have been like a bull in a china shop... a different approach is requred."
His Alpha indicates for him to join , and he does so. Drawing his coat around him to keep the rain out.
"That's also something Kate repeated to me." he smiles and nods "I also need to learn that when I'm in doubt about a particular battle, I can always turn to my pack and ask for their opinion before I act rashly."
[Danicka Musil] You learn the most about others when you don't speak. It's a lesson Danicka learned when she was so young most people didn't pay her any mind anyway; it's a notion she has yet to be disabused of. Jesmond tells her a lot with very little, as Danicka drags up directions from where they are to where the other -- though unknown -- kinswoman needs to go. She's new here. She doesn't like being disoriented, which itself is a peephole into what kind of person she is. There is someone to send post-cards to, somewhere.
Danicka says very little, herself. She smiles when the directions pop up, as though delighted by her tiny toy's apt and eager performance. "You get used to it," she says of the cold, with the tone of someone who might as well be saying you can get used to anything.
A sentiment that may very well be echoed by the headless, armless, endlessly trudging sculptures around them.
She looks at Jesmond, peering. They're standing very close to one another, because they're sharing an umbrella, and if she wanted to, Jesmond could count the flecks of blue-edged gold in Danicka's green irises. "Are you sure you don't want a ride? It'll take you an hour or more if you walk there." A pause. She frowns, thoughtful. "I suppose you could take the pink line, though. But ...honestly, I know that area."
This is bizarre behavior, but Jesmond may no doubt be used to it. Something about her invites trust, discourages the thought that she could be a crazy person who will stab Danicka in the throat in her pretty pretty car. She's the sort of girl you just... want to help out. And be nice to. And offer a ride to when it's cold and raining and dark.
She puts her phone back into her pocket. "Come on," she says, gesturing with her head towards the path, which will take them to the parking lot. "It'll take no time at all if you just let me drop you off."
[Wyrmbreaker] "Good," Lukas replies curtly. "I'm glad you had a talk with Kate. Try to keep her advice in mind."
That subject seems to be closed. Lukas, it soon becomes apparent, is moving with an objective in mind. There's something about his pace and stride and countenance that indicates intent: not merely a wandering stroll through the park but something of a hunt. The main parking lot isn't far now. Neither are the two kinswomen, one of whom is familiar; the other of whom is, in fact, Wyrmbreaker's quarry.
It's not until he catches sight of her that he explains to Theron, "I received a letter from an Adren of our tribe recently. It seems his daughter is moving to Chicago and he wanted to make me aware of her presence.
"That, I believe," he lifts his chin in the direction of the still-distant Jesmond, "is the girl in question."
[Oncoming Storm] Theron just reponds with a "I will" as if recent matters had been drawn to a close. Well at least for this evening.
The theurge quickens his face as Lukas' sets a faster pace. His eyes seemingly hunting for a target, moments later an explanation provided.
"Oh another kinswoman... seems that are numbers are growing in recent times. It's rather pleasing in a way, seems for awhile there that Fenrir doubled our number." When the the females are spotted and commented upon Theron looks up in that direction. "Do we know what business brings her to Chicago?"
[Danicka Musil] [Folks, the roommate is about to call the provider to see if we can get the stable internet we're paying for. >_< So hopefully I can switch to a different wifi and get right back on, but if you don't see me in 10-15 minutes, NPC Danicka getting a phone call and having to run off soon after Lukas and Theron get to her and Jesmond.]
[Jesmond Krutova] She'll have to set the little cards out on the window-ledge at her Aunt's and hope that they dry somewhat flatly. Perhaps if not, Jesmond will take a dishcloth and press them down with an iron. Smoothing out the snap-shot of Agora until it is pristine once more and she can write her fine printed little notes to her son out and send a bundle of them together to the remote little Sept where he lives.
She never does send only one, it is always a collection, like a picture-card storybook that reads of her day to day life. The cards in her damp pocket will speak only of a week's worth of adventures but it will suffice for the blue-eyed child of Thunder to know Ari had something to cling to; something that spoke of mother, even if she was not there.
To look at her, you would not know she had a young child; her figure had returned after the birth of her son to its lean, almost boyish frame, her lifestyle, that being said, did not lend itself while mated to one of Fenris' brood to idleness that might have given her a plumper frame. She was accustomed to hard work, to little recognition and to tolerating much.
Yet for all this, there was an air of something beguiling about her, something inviting and warm. She spoke with an honest sincerity that perhaps was rare in those of her blood. She was mild-mannered, yet retained the innate strength of will of her fore-fathers. Maybe its that, which invests Danicka in her safe journey to where she wishes to go.
"If you insist," her eyebrows rise with the understanding that she does. "Than I accept the offer." The two of her tribe are ahead of them, distant shapes taking form in a manner [and with a distinct reaction within her] that she recognizes. Rather than frowning, or turning hastily to run, the dark-haired woman beside Danicka looks on them rather placidly, watching as they approach one another from differing directions.
[Wyrmbreaker] "No. Her father mentioned only that she would be here, and would be staying for an indefinite period of time. Now," something of a warning glance, "remember her father is an Adren."
Then they're within earshot: the Ahroun and the Theurge, both tall, dark of hair, pale blue of eye. Even without a Garou's ability to sense purity of blood, these two are undeniably of Thunder. They approach deliberately, directly, never pretending for a second that their objective is anything but Jesmond.
When they're within a few feet, Lukas's eyes skate sideways, and he smiles at his mate. It's a small gesture, contained. Then he returns his attention to Jesmond.
"Ms. Krutová?" His voice is flinch-inducing, but he bears it well, folding his hands at his back. "I'm Lukáš Wyrmbreaker, Alpha of the Tribe in Chicago. This is my packmate, Theron Locke. And I see you've already met my mate, Dani&+269;ka Musil."
-- who, at that very moment, gets a call. The blonde makes some quick excuse and turns away to take the call.
[Jesmond Krutova] The elder Theurge had not mentioned in his message of his elder daughter's intentions in the city warded by Wyrmbreaker for their tribe. He had neglected [perhaps deliberately, perhaps to spare Jesmond] to detail that she was recently widowed as a mate. That her adopted tribe had sent her back like a mislabeled parcel.
return to sender
They'd kept what was in their best interests of hers and cut loose the dead weight. Still, up close to the Kinswoman it becomes hard to decipher why they had done such a thing. Child of Thunder's she clearly was, but there was a softness, a loveliness to her that was unique only to her. A rarity among their own, to find a Kinwoman that seemed to invite trust, rather than inspire suspicion.
"Yes," she replies with to Lukas, and then turns her eyes aside as Danicka moves aside to answer a call. Perhaps Jesmond ought to feel ill at ease now, exposed without the comfort of an umbrella, or the promise of safety gifted her by the then-nameless stranger. "We had not gotten to names, but I'm happy to make her acquaintance," she turns back with mildly, her dark lashes spiked by the raindrops.
"And yours," she adds, her attention drifting between them. "But how did you know me," there's a smile; it dares to inspire friendship, but remains free of anything near flirtation. "I thought I'd arrived quite humbly, without announcement."
[Wyrmbreaker] "You did," Lukas replies, "but your father wrote to me in advance."
Her father's missive had also expressly indicated that Jesmond had no idea he was writing to Wyrmbreaker. Perhaps implicit in that was the suggestion that Wyrmbreaker himself keep it quiet. That he doesn't perhaps gives some early hint of what kind of man Lukas is, which is a rare thing in their tribe: honest.
"I'm glad to welcome you to Chicago," he continues. "Unless circumstances change for either of us, I will be your guardian in this protectorate. Since your father is an Adren of the Tribe, I don't think it'll be unnecessary to remind you of the specific terms of wardship. It's the usual.
"Have you found a place to stay?"
[Oncoming Storm] Theron raised an eyebrow as he was admonished before he had even done anything. He doesn't comment though and proceeds to just follow Lukas as they approach Jesmond and Danicka. A small polite smile and nod to Dancika, not interrupting the kinswomans phonecall.
"Evening Ms. Krutova. Pleasure to meet you" he adds after Lukas introduces him to the kinswoman. Letting the two of them converse as he stands off to the side quietly.
[Jesmond Krutova] "Well," she returns with evenly enough. "Yes, I suppose he would have." It suffices for I should have known better about the sort of man that Drahomir Krutova was and her view on her father's far-reaching influence within the tribe itself. The rain continues to fall lightly, and Jesmond's dark hair is fast turned nothing but black as pitch against the shoulders of her gray coat.
She keeps her hands free of her pockets, the map still contained in one of them, the dye running where water hits it so that when she finally looks at it later on, it will be little but a smeared water-color, dabbed here and there with her fingerprints.
She seems mildly amused at the news of her new guardian being this young man who was perhaps younger even than she but then, so had her mate been, so had the Garou who was her elder in the eyes of the Nation been who had curtly directed her to leave the Sept she'd lived in for years as if she'd never truly been a part of it, and helped deliver its Cubs at all. "I remember the ways, Lukáš, yes."
She says his name the way it was intended, with the inflections in place, though her voice remains that of a woman born and bred in America; it merely hints at her ancestry, at perhaps a shared language.
Had she found a place to stay?
Here she looks between Alpha of the tribe and his second, or so it appeared. "I'm presently staying at my Aunt's here in the Loop, but I'll be taking my apartment to remain close to my work," she slips her hands into pockets, giving in to the nippy Chicago air. "Mercy Hospital."
[Wyrmbreaker] They share more than tribe: they share a mortal lineage too. Lukas had recognized at once the culture behind the name on the letter: Drahomir Kr&+367;tová, a Shadow Lord of czech ancestry. Perhaps even distantly related to his own family. There was no hesitation over her last name, either, or its appropriate pronunciation -- though other than that, Lukas's voice is unaccentedly, unremarkably american.
"Excellent," he says. "Your father mentioned you'd be looking for a more permanent residence. I wanted to make sure that was coming along all right. Are you a physician?"
[Oncoming Storm] When Jesmond mentions Mercy Hospital Theron's eyebrow lifts with interest, although beaten to the question by his Alpha. Theron looked at Jesmond with renewed interest it seemed, as he awaited the answer to Lukas' question.
[Jesmond Krutova] She laughs, but its soundless, and shakes her head in the negative. "Nothing so grand I'm afraid. But I am a trained Nurse, I worked as a Midwife in the Sept I was formally a part of, helped with the delivery of newborn Cubs and the like." It explains some things, her vocation. The steadiness of her regard of him, for one thing, and the strangely inviting, comforting aura she emits.
It is that of a woman accustomed to tending to others needs, and setting them at their ease around her so that they trust whatever she must do, or aid another in doing. It explains her steady hands, too. It was not only the Doctor who required them -- no Nurse could tremble at the sight of blood, or a needle, for that matter.
"I am not sure if I will continue to specialize here, however," she confesses, her attention straying for a moment to the darker eyed of the pair before her. "I hope the knowledge might be useful to the tribe."
[Wyrmbreaker] "This is a young, urban Sept," Lukas says. "There are few mated pairs here, no kin village, and none of the generations you would see at a more established Sept. As far as I know, we've had only a handful of pregnancies lately, and all the cubs were sent elsewhere to be cared for until they're old enough to First.
"So I'm not sure you'll find much to do as a midwife," he concludes. "But a competent medic is always useful. The kinfolk here see more front-line action than in most Septs as well."
The rain has continued to fall, gradually dampening the Ahroun's hair, the shoulders of his coat. He nods them on toward the parking lot now, apparently intending to get out of the rain. There's an instinctive ease with which the tall Lord falls in beside his mate who, after an apologetic glance their way, continues her phone conversation in low, discreet tones.
[Jesmond Krutova] "It is different," she agrees, concludes as they begin to walk toward the parking lot. "I come from time spent in a far more remote Sept, very old, very ...," she clearly does not wish to speak ill of the Sept, and its members, whoever they are. That much is clear in her hesitation. "Traditional. But I will adapt, it is what we are born to do, after all."
She comments, peaceably enough, the wind tugging at her dark hair, and whipping it around like a dark scarf. She strokes strands from between her lips. "Do you and your mate have any children? Have they been sent away, too?" A beat, she adds more uncertainly. "My son is cared for in such a way until it is known if he will undergo a change."
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Open? )
[Jesmond Krutova] [yep! the lords are all converging toward the parking lot of grant park.]
[Oncoming Storm] Theron speaks up finally "Lukas is right about our need to competent medics. I've actually just started donating some of my time to the Hill House organisation. Helping out some of the more disadvantaged areas, while not officially trained I've received quite a lot of medical training. My father is a cardio-thoracic surgeon in New York. Anyway I've been helping out a number of the clinics, I'm sure they'd appreciate the assistance of a qualified Nurse."
He shrugs softly "It is just an option to consider, once you find yourself settled in the city. I'll give you my number if your interested in following it up."
Moving with the Lords as they head towards the parking lot "But in general yes, people around here tend to get into scrapes fairly often. So another pair of hands to help bind wounds is always welcome." He offers Jesmond a warm welcoming smile, trying to help put her at ease.
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] So a bunch of Shadow Lords and a Silver Fang walk into a bar... No, that isn't right. A Silver Fang and several Shadow Lords walk into a park? Yes, that sounds about right. Except that the presence of the Shadow Lords were likely unknown to a certain cajun Fang.
The silver Ford SuperChief pulled up to a parking space after barrelling through the lot, the large engine rumbling softly. Some might think such a large vehicle was useless for an urban jungle like Chicago, but then Caleb did live miles away in Tekakwitha Wood. The door opened, and booted feet slipped out to step down into the macatum.
The rest of Caleb followed suit, shrugging a bit deeper into his coat. Spring was on it's way, but that didn't mean that winter was giving up without a fight. A glance around, and he snorted. "I will never understand this northern climate. Warm, cold, warm, cold. In a three day span," he said to himself in that cajun's drawl, "it has been like Weather by Sybill. Ugh."
The door was slammed shut, and Caleb began to walk into the park.
[Danicka Musil] When Lukas and Theron come near -- perhaps ten feet away, perhaps more, maybe less -- Danicka looks up. It could be because Jesmond sees them first, or because of some esoteric but undeniable thread of connection that shows itself as more than just a figment of one's imagination as soon as her eyes light on the Fostern they call Wyrmbreaker.
They. Not she. It was months and months and months before she knew he even had that name.
She smiles faintly at him. She is introduced to Jesmond and flicks her eyelashes as she puts two and two together, but then:
the iPhone in her pocket buzzes, and she thinks to ignore it for a moment before taking it out, glancing at the screen, and changing her mind with the barest shift in expression. "Excuse me," she says softly, and turns a few steps away, still keeping her umbrella over her head, her golden hair, the curled ends of the locks. The conversation does not last long, but it keeps her away from the others.
She does indeed glance up with a small, tight, apologetic smile, then murmurs: "I need to go, Helena. Yes. ...Yes, I promise. It will be fine. ...I'll see you then. Okay."
And then goodbyes, not nearly as abrupt-sounding as she seems to look, ending the call and sliding her phone back into her pocket. She carries no purse. Her head comes up and she lengthens her stride a bit so that Lukas does not have to shorten his quite so much to remain apace with her. She looks around: Lukas, Jesmond, Theron, and then: "I offered to drive... Ms. Krutová, was it?" a glance at the woman for confirmation, her speech manipulating the consonants and the accented vowel at the end with even greater ease than Wyrmbreaker's.
She, after all, doesn't have a Jackaled voice. It's softer. Easier on the ears. "...where she was going before you came over." Her eyes go again to the new kinswoman of her tribe, steady. "Do you still want one?"
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] (restarting laptop brb)
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] (back)
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas merely shakes his head in response to the inquiry regarding children. When Jesmond mentions a son, the Fostern looks her way curiously. It's an unusual mention, that, and she surely knows it. It's common for a Garou parent to lose touch with his or her child. Something so small and weak cannot withstand even the slightest amount of rage. It's far less common for a kinfolk parent to lose the child, particularly with no mate near.
Danicka is putting her phone away then, though, and Theron is speaking of clinics and wounds. After the brief, piercing glance, Lukas simply allows the conversation to move on.
"I was thinking," he says, "we could all grab a drink together. If none of you have other plans."
[Wyrmbreaker] [sorry bout slowness, guys. had to deal with more admin crap!]
[Jesmond Krutova] The newcomer does not smile any warmer at Theron when he offers her his own in a manner of reassurance. Rather, Jesmond regards him with that same steady, thoughtful demeanor that she's thus far displayed. It's not coldness, or rudeness that makes her hesitant to smile broader, or laugh more than the once she has but an uncertainty. As she'd said to Danicka -- she disliked feeling disorientated and that was precisely how she felt at present.
Uncertain.
Unsteady.
"Jesmond," she opens to Danicka with, and a fractionally more easy-going smile, then back to Theron. "I would be happy to assist in any way that I can while I'm here." It's both dutiful and like rote, the manner she speaks these words; clearly, she has been accustomed to saying them frequently. Then Lukas is offering drinks, and the rain-spattered brunette nods in his mate's direction: "I would be happy to have drinks with you, if your mate would still be willing to drive me back to my Aunt's, afterward."
[Danicka Musil] "Absolutely," Danicka says mildly, and smoothly. Absolutely, she'll drive Jesmond to her Aunt's. Absolutely, she'll keep to her earlier offer. "Let's go to Tavern on the Park," she says, glancing past the edge of her umbrella at the sky. "It's close, and I know the manager."
[Wyrmbreaker] Of the four Lords, Danicka is the only one with an umbrella. Lukas's hair is now thoroughly wet, and the beads of water on his wool coat are starting to seep into the material. He doesn't quite hurry, but his pace isn't loitering, either.
"By the way," he says to Danicka, "I met another two kinfolk of the tribe last week. A financier and a lawyer. I think their skills could be put to good use, so I referred them to you."
To Jesmond and Theron, then, by way of explanation -- "Dani&+269;ka has been working on setting up a coalition to better coordinate the kinfolk of -- hey!" He raises his voice to catch Caleb's attention; an ugly, yelping spike of a shout. "Caleb!"
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Gaia only knew why Caleb liked to walk in the rain. Perhaps the mugginess that followed in the summer months reminded him of home, of swamps and bayous. Beneath titles, estates, and expensive clothing and a cabin in the woods that was very nearly a victorian mansion, Darkensky was nothing more than a swamprat eating his 'gator stew.
Hey, Caleb!
His head snapped up, eyes alert in the dimness of the night. Looking around quickly, his eyes settled on the group. They came first to Lukas, the bond of Perun guiding him. Even if they still had lost the totem briefly(?), one cannot mistake a pack's bond. As the pack's archer, he was usually positioned directly behind the Phalanx wall with Lukas infront of him.
His hand and arm raised in a wave, and he quickstepped over to the trio. "Good evening," he drawled. "Caleb Delacourt-Alden," he said to Jesmond. "Lukas' and Theron's brother."
With that Silver Fang breeding outpouring from him, and the fact that the three looked absolutely nothing alike - Caleb by far being the better looking one, he dipped a bit of a bowed head to her. Turning, he spotted Danicka. "Madamoiselle Musil, it has been quite some time indeed. I trust that all is well with you?"
[Danicka Musil] The mention of the Coalition makes Danicka half-smile, a bit wry. "You should give them Montressor Sabine's number. He was elected the chair. I cha--"
Hey! Caleb!
If she wants to wince at the sound of her mate's voice shrieking that, she controls it well enough. She flinches slightly, more in her eyes and mouth than any other movement, and exhales slowly. Caleb walks over, and she inclines her head in both greeting and answer. "Well enough," she says softly.
[Oncoming Storm] Theron has just been quiet after his conversation with Jesmond, she seem ill-at-ease and he wasn't going to push any further.
Lukas begins telling him about the Kinfolk Coalition, but that is soon interrupted when Lukas directs their attention fo Caleb. "Evenin Caleb" he offers to his pack brother when he is closer. Still unsure about the man , having only spent the briefest of moments in each others company.
[Jesmond Krutova] "A coalition?" The dark-haired Kinswoman appears intrigued. "There was something similar to that set up in my father's Sept," Jesmond begins, her eyes not on Danicka, or Lukas but on the Silver Fang as he is hollered at and approaches to make his introductions.
The Shadow Lord Kinswoman regards the son of Falcon quite solemnly; her thoughts on a similar sort of Kinfolk Network abandoned in favor of slipping back a step or two so that she is on a par with the rear of the group; the furthest from the new-come Silver Fang. It is done wonderfully subtly, with the delivery such that it appears only that Jesmond had wished to re-think her maundering around a puddle in the midst of the parking lot.
After a few minutes, she takes up her conversation with Danicka once more; her voice moderated now, a sure sign of watchfulness around their newest addition to the party. "Yes, but they seemed a great deal more focused on providing protection to the Sept, they were quite," Jesmond's lips bend to offer the slightest of smiles.
"Militant."
[Jesmond Krutova] [maneuvering! RAR HISS typo!]
[Wyrmbreaker] "Caleb, this is Jesmond Kr&+367;tová, daughter of Storm's Vengeance, Shadow Lord Adren of your Auspice. She's moved to Chicago for the foreseeable future. Jesmond, my packbrother, Caleb of the Silver Fangs."
Introductions made, Jesmond takes up conversation with Danicka; Lukas moderates his gait so Caleb can fall in with the convocation of Shadow Lords.
"We're heading to the Park Tavern to grab a drink," Lukas says. "You coming?"
[Jesmond Krutova] "Pleasure," Jesmond says of being introduced to Caleb, but her eyes don't quite match the strength of the smile she casts him; it seems larger than ever, and dictated in the length of time it remains by how long it is before Danicka speaks to her, and she can allow it to dissolve to a more natural expression.
[Danicka Musil] "I'm not entirely sure the originally intended organization is going to work out. A balance between human rules of order and Garou ways of doing things might not work out." Her conversation with Jesmond seems to be splitting off from the three werewolf males a bit. They pause when Lukas introduces Jesmond to Caleb, but then Danicka goes on, shrugging one shoulder as they walk. She's sharing the umbrella again. "If I had to guess, I'd wager that the group overall is going to splinter into at least two factions, who will most likely operate with different but non-conflicting goals, different organizational infrastructures, and at least a little bit of bad blood between them."
She smiles. It's a lean thing, a trifle on the animal side. "But I might just be fantasizing." She reaches into her pocket and, down the aisle, a slate-blue, brand-new Infiniti's lights flash on to say Hello! Hello there, I'm unlocked now!
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] "Oui, certainly," Caleb replied to Lukas. When introductions were made, a polite smile was given to Jesmond. "A pleasure to meet you, cher."
Gaze drifting to Theron, his replacement, Caleb nods. "Hello, Theron. I trust you are well?" Joining the group, his footfalls fell in sync with his packmates unknowingly matching his pace with theirs. Clearing his throat, he shrugged a bit before continuing to speak to his fellow theurge. "Tell me, what Rites do you know? I believe I may be lacking in some that might be crucial to the coming battle."
[Oncoming Storm] As he is addressed by Caleb, he falls in beside the Fang Theurge so they could better discuss the topic Caleb raises. Not wanting to speak of Rites and secrets to all and sundry. "The rites I know... are many.. mainly mystical in nature. I know the Rite of Summonin, Binding, Cleansing, Talisman Dedication, Questing Stone and the Rite of Contrition. I also have knowledge of several rites that are known only to my tribe."
Turning to Caleb "What about yourself ? there may be a chance to swap rites to further improve both our knowledges."
[Jesmond Krutova] "Historically, Kinfolk organizations have suffered from bad blood," Jesmond is tending back her long hair, capturing it with one hand and holding it aside as they reach Danicka's car. "At least, that is certainly the impression I've gotten from Garou reactions to the one at the Sept of Dusking Glory," there's a beat, the newcomer's expression flickers somewhere between regretful and bemused.
"My father certainly had no time for them, but I admit I am curious about yours, Danicka." Rain drips down Jesmond's neck, but she doesn't seem to mind. "I'm used to putting myself to work around a Sept, so, wherever I can be useful, I'll be pleased to know about it." It's not humility that drives her words here, but a raw honesty she does not see fit to conceal.
[Danicka Musil] "The way I see it is this," Danicka says, as her steps slow because they're nearing her car -- which is blisteringly gorgeous, a low and lean coupe with a dark leather interior, a machine that screams in harmony with her coat and her shoes and her small, glinting diamond earrings at quite a bit of wealth -- to go get some drinks,
"Only two creatures on earth engage in highly organized mass warfare: mankind and ants." She lifts an eyebrow and starts to circle around to the driver's side. "And ants are all, a bit literally, of common thought on all things. Mankind, even supernaturally set aside as we happen to be, are not. But diversity of specialization is a signifier of advancing civilization, so as long as the cause is being furthered and people are protecting each other and themselves, I could care less whether there's one group or two groups or more."
[Wyrmbreaker] It's difficult to say whether or not Theron was intended as Caleb's substitute or replacement. What's undeniable is this much: Caleb and Lukas were close before the Silver Fang departed on his extended umbral journeys; his meditations after his wife's death. They were close, but they never had much time together, and then the Fang was gone.
What's also undeniable: Lukas is fiercely pragmatic. And a pack without a present Theurge is at a great disadvantage. And after Caleb left, there was Theron.
So perhaps Caleb isn't to be blamed for resenting Theron's presence just a little. And maybe Theron isn't to be blamed to feel his place in the pack suddenly a little more crowded. Lukas could, of course, try to smooth things over. To try to assign one Theurge to one aspect of his auspice; the other to another. That might help. That might only worsen things if he meddles overmuch, or unnecessarily.
In either case, the Ahroun doesn't interrupt as the Theurges begin to discuss their Rites. But rather deliberately, as the Theurges fall behind the kinswomen, Lukas keeps pace with his packmates. He trails a little ways behind the Theurges, bringing up the rear of their little troupe, listening quietly.
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] "Indeed?" Caleb said, walking along casually with his hands clasped behind his back. His body was loose, but completely erect in that it looked like he was suspended by a wire from the center of his head. An arrogant walk, an arrogant saunter, whichever it must be called, the walk-form was called Cat Crosses the Courtyard. Few swordsmen knew it, and Caleb did.
"I possess Summoning and Binding - any Crescent worth their Gnosis would know these, oui? Those, as well as Silence, Totem, and Talisman Dedication. Silence has more uses than one would think, and aids more than the Ragabash trying to sneak around." Ambush is what the Rite was mostly used for. While Theron might be a theurge, Caleb somehow became a war-theurge. It could be supposed that it was due to the constant threat of impending doom that usually occurs in Chicago.
"A trade of knowledge may be useful," he continued in his cajun's drawl. "Tell me, -yuf, what do you believe is the best way to go about obtaining the services of a water elemental for healing and a fire elemental for destruction?" Equal yet opposite - perhaps that might be the best way to describe Theron and Caleb. The Silver Fang was known as a bit of a pyro, and he completely held an affinity for the fire elementals. But, as well with the destructive force of Fire's hungry mouth, new growth can come of the ash.
Indeed, Caleb's hand strayed to his hip-pocket which he brushed his fingers over gently, over the layer of his coat. Should that coat be removed, they would see a large-ish square. It was the zippo he carried with the Spitfire skateboard logo, which was his fire elemental talen.
[Jesmond Krutova] "Sometimes," the mild-mannered Jesmond offers to these concise views of Danicka's as they stand beside her car, awaiting the Garou. "I wonder if mankind would be better with a hive mind driving it. But then I suppose that would lead to criticism suggesting that I desire no free will for any."
She tucks in her shoulders, bracing herself against the in-climate weather. "When I fact I merely question why so many feel the need to push their own agenda at the cost of progression for all."
[Jesmond Krutova] [I don't know why I keep typoing today. 'when in fact', that should read.]
[Danicka Musil] Her eyes slide to look at Jesmond as the other woman mentions hive minds. Better off. Progress for all. Agendas. She shrugs one shoulder again, which is about as noncommittal as one can get, and opens her door.
[Rory] There's little explanation or reason for Rory being in the park tonight aside from the fact that she's known to wander. Parts of the Unbroken are walking the paths, and inevitably they will come upon her, as she's seated on a random bench, with something mechanical in her lap. Something small, unidentifiable, and she's busy poking and prodding at it as if to find the answer in the simple act of touching everything that moved and flipping it over and over in her hands.
Her brow is creased, furrowed in thought, under the mass of bloodred curls. There is no doubting her [wasted] blood and heritage, it's written all through her, under her skin and in her hair, her eyes, her complexion. What's at odds with it all though, is the press of rage, with what Lukas knows to be an incredibly shy and awkward innocence.
She hears voices, and peeks up to see who it is, before ducking her head shyly, and trying her best not to be noticed at all.
[Theron Locke] Theron watches Caleb strut/saunter but remains silent and bites back his comment. He was a likeable fellow and in someways reminded him of himself. No point getting off on the wrong foot now.
"Hmm the rite of Silence sounds similar to one I know, however mine is more targeted towards securing conversations away from prying ears."
He looks thoughtful at the question posed to him "Hmm I believe it comes down to how prepared you are. Do you have a source of water or fire.... if not, well that's when you start to get creative with your surroundings."
[Wyrmbreaker] These things always happen utterly without warning.
One moment the pack -- half of it, anyway -- are moving through the parking lot. The kinswomen are about five or six feet ahead of the Theurges, who's about a foot ahead of the Ahroun. They're conversing, or else listening, and they're thinking about getting drinks or getting wings and sauce or getting home or --
Danicka opens her car door.
A wave of unnatural, sickly-sweet stench. She and Jesmond see it in a flash: the ichor slung over the interior in great, sticky ropes, like the webbing of some enormous, segmented anthropod --
-- rather like the ones clambering out of the car at them right now.
They have ten legs, eight eyes. Though they somehow crammed into the interior of Danicka's vehicle, they unfold now to spindly-legged giants, each the size of a VW bus. Chittering maw drops open to reveal great mandibles dripping with slaver. Their carapaces are slick and black under the half moon, gleaming and bulging.
It shrieks at them in outrage. How dare the man-things disturb their nest?
--
[everyone roll WP, diff 6! if you succeed, you have one round to post/make preparations. if you fail, you're staring in shock!]
[Wyrmbreaker] [Lukas!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Theron Locke] [ WP - 6d6]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Rory] [Rory WP!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Danicka Musil] [WP]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 7, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Theron Locke] Theron's eyes open wide as he turns from Caleb to witness yet more horrors polluting the streets of Chicago. Instinctively moving as he moves up behind Jesmond and starts guiding her back to the rear of the group.
Taking a protective stance in front of her, as his eyes go back to these things. Watching and waiting.
[Rory] She hears something, smells something, and it pulls her gaze upwards again. She blinks, and then shoves the mechanical dodad into her backpack, zipping it closed and slinging it over her shoulders, settling it with a roll of her shoulders.
She moves quickly to close the distance with the Unbroken and their kin, the movement letting Lukas know she's there as she instinctively waits for his direction. She chews her lower lip worriedly, but as always, instantly ready to help.
It's what she was born to do.
It's all she was born to do.
[Danicka Musil] It all hits her first: the smell. The sight. She opens the car door and a woman like her should be not only screaming but quailing, shivering. Danicka's hands clench into fists, one around the keys in her hand, which dig into her palm, which gets her adrenaline going again, and she
unleashes a torrent of swearing that likely sears Lukas and Jesmond's ears, if Jesmond indeed knows the language behind her name. Some of it sounds terrified. Some sounds angry. Aghast. Shocked, most definitely. She's lunging forward to try and grab her purse from under the seat when
they start to come out.
Danicka rears back, as quickly as she can, and does what goddamn good sense says: bolts back towards the Garou.
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] "Truly," Caleb said, abandoning this arrogant saunter for now to walk normally. Two sides of the same coin, Theron and he might possibly be. "However hypothetically, let's say for the sake of argument that there has been a fight, and your reserves are too depleted for healing someone that has been injured, but at the same time there is a pool of stagnant water that is obviously Wyrmtainted. Do you clean---"
The car door opens, and the arthropods are crawling out of the vehicle, their chitinous mouths clacking together. But instinct was on his side, as he immediately glanced around and took on his war-form. Snowy white fur rippled with the breeze as a light sheen coated it from the rain. Even in Crinos, he was a beautiful sight to behold to any that wouldn't run in terror.
Bracers on his forearms running from wrist to elbow, and plates on his shoulders were his armor. Greeves and a chainmail skirt with steel bars running down it. Indeed with that sword that he pulled out of his body where it had been dedicated, it was easy to believe that Caleb came from a very different time period. Without Perun's aid, it seemed the packmates may well be at a disadvantage, but they were still a pack.
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Steel bands on the chainskirt, not bars. )
[Wyrmbreaker] "Fuck me," Lukas's tone is almost conversational from sheer surprise. Then he's barking orders: "Kin to the back! Theron, protect them! Caleb, flank! Rory -- " catching sight of the metis, "beside me! EVERYONE IN HISPO!"
He's changing as he speaks. The timbre of his voice drops; broadens, deepens. Danicka has used talens before, but perhaps she's never seen her mate, or any other Garou, wield them. Lukas does not seem to treat them with any particular care now that push has come to shove, but there's utter familiarity with the way his hand dips into the bag, utter familiarity with the way he literally smashes the talens against his chest.
His gnosis is briefly phosphorescent in the air. As Danicka is retreating past him, he holds the rest out to her in a hand
that becomes a claw
that becomes a paw.
"You may need to heal us," is his last comment to her before the direwolf drops forward on heavy paws, a pale glow sparking from the tips of his black fur as he moves forward to take point.
[For the record:
-1 Gn Bloody Bandage!
-1 Gn Soak Talen!
-1 Gn Luna's Armor!
-1 WP Resist pain!]
[Wyrmbreaker] [and a roll!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 1, 3, 6, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Failure at target 7) [WP] Re-rolls: 1
[Rory] Orders given, and she obeys immediately - there is no hesitation, none - as she falls to Hispo beside and a step behind Lukas.
[Wyrmbreaker] [BULLSHIT! AGAIN!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 3, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Failure at target 8) [WP]
[Wyrmbreaker] [fuggit! *LOL* roll inits!]
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas
+20!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7
[Wyrmbreaker] Charlotte
+7
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1
[Rory] [Inits! +8]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1
[Wyrmbreaker] Wilbur
+6
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3
[Wyrmbreaker] Templeton
+6
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] 8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1
[Theron Locke] [ 1 R Snapshift Hispo
Inits +7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10
[Danicka Musil] [+6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas 27
Theron 17
Templeton 15
Danicka 11
Rory and Caleb simultaneous 9
Wilbur 9
Charlotte 8
[Wyrmbreaker] Charlotte
...takes 3 attacks a round, unsplit and frontloaded.
1. stabbinate Lukas!
2. stabbinate Caleb as he's going around!
3. stabbinate Rory!
Wilbur
...takes 2 attacks a round.
1. close range!
2. stabbinate Danicka!
[Rory] [Declare: 2 rage, split first action - all on Charlotte.
1a: bite
1b: bite
1R: bite
2R: bite]
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] 1 Rage spent
1a, not split: Summon an Earth elemental to their cause from the ground near them
1R: Bite Charlotte
[Danicka Musil] [1a. -1WP, BB!
1b. Held to, most likely, heal someone else.]
[Wyrmbreaker] [Charlotte, action 2 change due to range:
2. Envenom Caleb]
[Wyrmbreaker] Templeton
...takes 2 attacks a round. Is hanging back behind Charlotte and Wilbur.
1. Envenom Theron!
2. Webbify Lukas!
[Theron Locke] [ 1a Summon Ice Elemental + WP
1b Bite Wilbur ]
[Theron Locke] [ 1 Summon Ice Elemental + WP]
[Wyrmbreaker] [for the record, same for Caleb -- no Rage action.]
Lukas
1a. Spur Claws Charlotte!
b. intercept Wilbur's hit!
R1. Bite Charlotte
R2. Bite Charlotte
R3. Bite Charlotte
-- moving to Wilbur if Charlotte goes down.
[Wyrmbreaker] [wait, i lied, spur clawing wilbur!]
[Wyrmbreaker] Sleek, spindly legs clickclacking on asphalt, the monstrous arthropods skitter forward. One is clearly larger than the rest: the pitch-black female flanked by her dun-colored, attendant mates. She goes directly for the front line of the Garou. One of the males attempts to swerve around this front line; the other hangs back for some other, fouler purpose.
Meanwhile, on the Garou side, the Ahrouns have formed a front line behind which both Theurges immediately begin to summon. Behind them, the kin: one clutching a bag of talens, the other -- perhaps petrified by fear.
Shrieking, the female arthropod lunges. And the blackfurred Ahroun surges -- not to meet the strike, not immediately, but sideways at the smaller male. Claws suddenly wet with poison, he strikes.
[Wyrmbreaker] -2 split!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]
[Wyrmbreaker] damage +3!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] damage +3!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] 'Wilbur' shrieks as the right side of his cephalothorax caves in under the Ahroun's claws. Chitin splitting cracks through the night: it sounds like a wood plank giving way.
[Theron Locke] [ Summon Ice Elemental - Wits + Rituals 6d6+WP]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]
[Wyrmbreaker] Theron summons quickly and skillfully. The earth begins to rumble.
Meanwhile, behind the phalanx wall of his compatriots, the smallest arthropod rears on his hind three sets of legs -- spits venom at the Theurge.
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 8)
[Wyrmbreaker] (effects roll)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [Theron takes 1 unsoakable agg this round, 1 unsoakable agg next round.]
[Wyrmbreaker] [Webbing Lukas!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 5, 6 (Botch x 2 at target 8)
[Wyrmbreaker] [erk. Webbing self!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] A glistening arc of poison hits Theron in the face. Immediately, the venom begins to work in through his skin; the mucus membranes of his eyes and nose.
It burns like a flame.
The creature's webbing, however, is not so well-aimed. Sticky, gelatinous strands shoot forth from its spinnerets -- missing its intended targets, hitting the back legs of its mate instead. She rears in outrage, mandibles clacking at the air.
'Templeton' cowers.
[rounding up... Charlotte loses 1 die from subsequent actions.]
[Wyrmbreaker] [Danicka: BB active! action b held. Caleb, roll summons!]
[Theron Locke] [ Is this Elemental friendly ? - Gnosis 6d6]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Wits+Rituals, +1 WP.
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 6, 7 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]
[Wyrmbreaker] [no change -- elemental will appear shortly]
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Gnosis
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 9 (Failure at target 6)
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] REROLL.
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 2, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker, snarling over his back -- "Oncoming Storm, get Jesmond out of here!"
[Rory] NOMNOMNOM Charlotte!
split 1: Dex + Brawl + Hispo = 3+4+2 = 9 -2 for split = 7 diff 5 - reroll 10s
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5)
[Rory] Damage: Str + Hispo + Bite + (suxx-1) = 4+3+2 = 9 + 2
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Rory] OH COME ON. KAHSEENO DON'T BE A BITCH! Bitelike ya MEAN IT.
split 2: Dex + Brawl + Hispo = 3+4+2 = 9 -3 for split = 6 diff 5 - reroll 10s
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 9 at target 5) Re-rolls: 4
[Rory] THATS BETTER. AND DO IT AGAIN! DONT BE A BITCH!
Str + Hispo + Bite + (suxx-1) = 4+3+2 = 9 + 8
Dice Rolled:[ 17 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 8 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] soak again!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 5, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] The little metis's first bite doesn't even put a scratch in the female.
Her second tears a hole in the front of the beast. Three legs clatter to the ground. It staggers backward, shrieking its earshattering shriek in pain and outrage.
Then it strikes back.
[First stab: Lukas! -1 for web.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 6, 6, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 6, 9 (Failure at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] 2. changed: stab Rory! +2 diff (two changes)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 8, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 8)
[Wyrmbreaker] [damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Rory] Soak!
Sta+Hispo = 4+3=7
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] 3. stab Rory!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 4, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 4, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Rory] SOAK! LIKE YA MEAN IT!
Sta+Hispo = 4+3=7
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] The single, razoredged claw of the monstrosity flashes out. It strikes so fast raindrops shear off its leg. When it strikes, it carves Wyrmbreaker open.
Immediately in the aftermath, his flesh reseals itself. Nearly all the damage is instantly and mystically repaired. His blood is on the creature's leg, though, and the next strike flings red droplets off in its wake
as it claws into Rory, twice, dealing back what it was dealt.
Wyrmbreaker snarls at the beast viciously -- wordless, though the intent is clear: Back on me, motherfucker! -- even as his claws push off the asphalt, send him sideways to intercept 'Wilbur's strike.
[Wyrmbreaker] Wilbur:
1. movement!
2. strike Danicka!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas: intercept! -3 dice.
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] The creature's leg seized in the Ahroun's jaws -- narrowly turned aside. Then he wheels on the female again; the largest threat.
R1. chomp charlotte!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 8 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Wyrmbreaker] damage +7... i'm so splitting this pool.
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 5, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 7, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] Ichor splatters the parking lot, foul and cold, as another leg is torn loose from 'Charlotte'. The enormous creature is clearly thinking better of its attack now, skittering backward on its remaining legs.
[Rory] Rage 1 - COME ON! BITE HER!
Dex + Brawl + Hispo = 3+4+2= 9 diff 5 - reroll 10s
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2
[Rory] LIKE YA MEAN IT!
Str + Hispo + Bite + (suxx-1) = 4+3+2 = 9 + 7
Dice Rolled:[ 16 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 9, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 7 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [nooo i want to liiiive!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 6, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas, rage 2!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 3, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5)
[Wyrmbreaker] [dam!]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Rory] DIIIIIIIIE BITCH!
Dex + Brawl + Hispo = 3+4+2= 9 diff 5 - reroll 10s
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 4, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 5)
[Rory] OH COME ON.
Str + Hispo + Bite + (suxx-1) = 4+3+2 = 9 + 1
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 4, 4, 6, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] soak! I WANT TO LIIIIIVE!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas, rage 3! NO SRSLY, DIE PLZ.
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 3, 5, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] +10 - ice
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4 (Failure at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] +5 -- earth
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1 (Botch x 1 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [end of round!
summary:
Lukas -6A, but with BB.
Theron -1A
Caleb OK
Danicka OK
Rory -4A
Lukas 27
Theron 17
Templeton 15
Ice 14
Danicka 11
Rory and Caleb simultaneous 9
Wilbur 9
Charlotte 8
Earth 6]
[Wyrmbreaker] After their initial, devastating onslaught, the Garou find it hard to bring the arthropods down. The female, grievously wounded as she is, is still -- somehow -- limping along after a rain of attacks from both Ahrouns.
The males -- one is badly injured, hindered by the claws in his side. The other moves forward now, coming around his mate protectively, hissing at the Garou.
And all at once, the ground explodes. A vaguely humanoid creature, all heavy shoulders and massive, featureless fists, a head that's little more than a stone with indentations, drags itself out of the frozen earth. Its voice is slow and deep. Angry.
"WHO... CALLS... ME... FROM MY... REST?"
The temperature in this region, also, is dropping precipitiously.
[Wyrmbreaker] [Ice elemental not here this round yet! Earth is. Declaring!
Earth:
Hold actions. Currently: pissed the fuck off.
Charlotte:
1. Dodge out of reach of hand to hand attacks!
2. Envenom Caleb!
3. Envenom Rory!
Wilbur
1. Stab Lukas!
2. Stab again!]
[Rory] [Declare: and AGAIN! Charlotte till she falls, than to the unhurt male.
2 rage, split first action
1a: Bite
1b: Bite
1R: Bite
2R: GUESS WHAT? OMNOMNOM MOFO!]
[Rory] (edit - 1a - COMMERE CHARLOTTE!)
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] 1A. Spirit Speech: "Great Earth spirit, these creatures seek to defile your territory! We are battling them, but I sought your aid so that you may know of their existance and smite them with your mighty wrath! In return for this, I will come and tend your land for you so that it may prosper in beauty and richness for the turning of two lunar months. Please, aid us! We do not match your power!" Flattery, and all of that, never helps. Charisma+Ettiquette roll, WP added.
[Danicka Musil] She's an attentive sort, Ms. Musil is. Hard to miss the elemental exploding from the ground in a shower of dirt and asphalt littered with ice. Hard to miss the fact that her breath is steaming thickly in the air now, where before it was just drifting alone. Hard to miss any of it, really.
But she's also noticing that the female is running, hiding, and barely alive. A part of her considers utter madness. Another part of her wrenches back on that other part's hair and says Oh, like hell you will.
and that part is louder, and a lot more convincing.
Danicka takes something from the bag Lukas gave her and sidesteps towards the wolf that used to be a redhaired female.
[1a. BB on Rory
1b. Held!]
[Wyrmbreaker] [Ice: not here yet
Templeton:
1. Stab Rory!
2. Envenom Danicka!
Lukas:
1a. Bite Wilbur
b. Block for Danicka!
R1. Bite Wilbur
R2. Bite Wilbur
R3. Bite Wilbur
Moving on to Templeton if Wilbur goes down!]
[Wyrmbreaker] 1a. bite wilbur, -2!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 5)
[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [ack! i wanna liiiiive!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] Templeton: Stab Rory!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [dam!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Rory] ACK! SOAK IT!
Sta+Hispo = 4+3=7
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] Templeton: envenom!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas, b: block!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Danicka Musil] [1a. -1WP, BB on Rory
1b. A panicked Jesmond drops her purse and a gun just falls out of it. Hey! Danicka thinks. I know how to use one of those. 3RB on Charlotte! Assuming stats are for a 9mm]
[dex + firearms -3 (split) // +1 diff (3rb)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 8 (Success x 2 at target 7) [WP]
[Danicka Musil] [i'm a moron. 3RB adds to your attack]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 1, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Danicka Musil] [4+1][L]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [nooo i want to liiiive!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 6, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Persuasion: Charisma 3 + Subterfuge 0. (awfuckme - Kemp)
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Charisma + Ettiquette = 5, WP added. WOO KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5) [WP]
[Wyrmbreaker] [resist!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] The Theurge's words give the spirit pause -- but only for a second.
Then, roaring with rage, it smashes its fists down. The ground shakes.
[Earth redeclare: QUAKE!]
[Rory] 1a. COMMERE CHARLOTTE! (and also - THANKS DANICKA!)
BITE LIKE YA MEAN IT, BITCH!
1b. Dex + Brawl + Hispo = 3+4+2 = 9 -3 for split -1H= 5 diff 5 - reroll 10s
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Rory] AUGH! COME ON!
Str + Hispo + Bite + (suxx-1) = 4+3+2 = 9
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 5, 5, 6, 6 (Failure at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] X_X
[Wyrmbreaker] Charlotte flees -- but not fast enough. Rory catches up. The bite is far from perfect. The form, nowhere near as balanced as some of her previous efforts.
However, she is Fianna. And she's lucky, if nothing else. The last bite tears Charlotte open; sends the enormous creature clattering to the ground in a heap of joints and legs and carapace.
[Wyrmbreaker] Wilbur
Stab Lukas!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 5, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] Stab again!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas, R1: bite Wilbur!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2
[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 16 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [ahem. rerolling with right number of dice. >_>
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [soak! i wanna liiive!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [earth! belated! UMBRAQUAKE. Everyone needs to soak ... a pathetic 2B *dies*]
[Wyrmbreaker] [Wilbur, soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Rory] (Soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Danicka Musil] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [Templeton, soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 5, 5, 5 (Botch x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [Lukas, soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 9 (Failure at target 6)
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Rory] Oh TEMPLETON! YER NEXT!
[kahseeno, i swear to gaia if you fuck me on this...]
R1: Dex + Brawl + Hispo = 3+4+2= 9 diff 5 - 1flank! reroll 10s
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 4) Re-rolls: 1
[Rory] [Dont even think about it. CHOMP!]
Str + Hispo + Bite + (suxx-1) = 4+3+2 = 9 + 3
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas, R2! Die Wilbur!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 5)
[Wyrmbreaker] [seriously kahseeno, i'm on the verge of NOT BELIEVING.]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 7, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 9, 10 (Failure at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] Another of the arthropods hits the ground. Chitin clatters off asphalt like bark hitting the ground.
[Rory] STUPID SPIDER! DIE TEMPLETON!
[DO NOT BE A BITCH KAHSEENO, I MEAN IT!]
R2: Dex + Brawl + Hispo = 3+4+2= 9-1H diff 5 - 1flank! reroll 10s
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 7 at target 4) Re-rolls: 1
[Rory] DIIIIIIIIIIE!
[THATS BETTER!]
Str + Hispo + Bite + (suxx-1) = 4+3+2 = 9 + 6
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas, R3, on Templeton!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Wyrmbreaker] [damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 7, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] soak! i wanna liiiive!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 7, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [summary!
Lukas -6A, -2B, but with BB
Caleb OK
Danicka OK
Rory -4A]
[Rory] [correction: Rory -2A]
[Wyrmbreaker] [sorry, -2!]
[Wyrmbreaker] Only one spider remains. One spider on its last legs, and...
The air in the area suddenly turns so cold it stings their eyes and noses. All the moisture freezes out of it instantaneously, falling in a fine crystalline powder at their feet. The rain on the ground freezes, slick and glistening. The rain in the air -- that freezes too, dropping against their fur, their coats, the ground, with a thousand tiny shatters.
Ice has come. No questions; no words.
Just punishment.
[Wyrmbreaker] [Earth
Current declaration: Umbraquake again!
Charlotte
X_X
Wilbur
X_X]
[Rory] [really? REALLY YOU STUPID SPIDER? DIE!
2 rage - split first action, YOU WILL DIE NOW.
1a. bite
1b. bite
1R. bite
2R. bite - hey, she's consistently good at what she does!]
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] First, Caleb will deal with the Earth elemental. "Earth Lord, I know your might! It is great indeed. Look, by your own power you have aided in helping fell some of these beasts with merely a thought! Imagine if you would but aid us, what may happen! Victory!"
Charisma+Ettiquette roll.
"Great Lord of Ice, hear me! My compatriot summoned you forth, but due to the protection of one whom needed it most, it is left to I, Caleb Delacourt-Alden, theurge of mighty Falcon, to speak with you of aid! Your touch of frost is death to all whom encounter it. Slow, ebbing death by the theft of warmth! Combine your powers with that of our most esteemed Earth Lord, and surely victory will be at hand! All will sing your praises!"
Charisma + Ettiquette.
[Danicka Musil] [Staying out of the way and cowering prettily before the might of Ice and Earth.]
[Wyrmbreaker] Ice: Freeze!
Lukas:
1a. oh just die already. CHOMP.
b. Held.
[Wyrmbreaker] 1a. -2!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 5, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2
[Wyrmbreaker] [damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 11 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] Caleb howls into the frozen silence.
Lukas tears the last arthropod literally in half.
Ice -- materializes in a soundless implosion, a sudden, invisible stab of cold so intense that every last one of them feel it in their bones.
[Freeze! -1R. Agg damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 10 (Failure at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [no, seriously now! -1R]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [lukas, soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 5, 5, 5, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Soak.
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Rory] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Persuasion!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 8 (Failure at target 6)
[Danicka Musil] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Charisma+Ettiquette: EARTH.
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 7, 7 (Success x 4 at target 5)
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Charisma+Ettiquette: ICE. HAILLLL KAHSEENO! WP added.
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 5) [WP]
[Wyrmbreaker] Earth: convinced. Ice resisting!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] It's so cold now that it's hard to breathe. It's so cold that their exposed flesh -- the tips of their noses, the pads of their feet, and for Danicka: her face, her ears -- throb with a deep, abiding ache.
Wyrmbreaker, dropping the pieces of the spider where it lays, pads back to the others. He does not interrupt. He does not attempt to intercede between the Theurge and his spirits. Eyes squinted against the sheer chill in the air, the Ahroun flows up into his birthform, comes to Danicka, stands behind his mate and wraps an arm around her: sharing heat.
Theron is gone. Jesmond is gone. Rory is bristling still in her hispo form.
Ice hangs in the air, crystalline and perfect, a single, enormous, infinitely complex crystal that shifts and changes before their very eyes. Beside it, Earth, a great grumbling boulder of a form, its featureless head turning toward its fellow elemental and back with a deep, groaning grind of rock on rock.
Caleb, alone against both, speaks to them in the clear, fluid language of spirits. For some time, it seems as though his words do nothing. Earth continues to rumble. The temperature continues to drop.
Then -- gradually -- Ice's shape shifts. Not so jagged now; not so many angles and spikes. It happens so slowly it might be only their imaginations at first. Then, more and more apparent: the temperature stabilizes. It begins to rise. The ice falling from the sky turns liquid again. Rain patters down around them.
Earth speaks; Ice is silent. Earth's voice is a low moan, like rocks grinding deep in the dark undersoil.
"Your enemies are gone. But when you need us, we will come again."
Earth turns away. He twists in on himself, diminishes, sinks -- is nothing more than a patch of disrupted, cracked asphalt within seconds. Ice simply dissipates into the air, fragments spinning from its edges until nothing remains.
Then all is quiet. The creatures lie where they are, their carapaces covered in slow-melting frost.
[Rory] Rory is poised to take down the remaining spider, but Lukas sends it into nothing but noisy splatters, and she stares... and then steps backwards once as her eyes - vibrantly green even in this form - search for more, just in case. She watches as the elementals are bargained with, shivering in ice tipped fur, until they slip away once again.
Only when it seems they are alone again, only then does she shrink down once more into the oddly shy redhead, dressed in tattered clothing, with a battered backpack slung across her shoulders, blood flowing freely down her side. She slips off her pack, and removes her hoodie and presses it against her side, tightly, up under her t-shirt. Her pack re-shouldered, she holds the makeshift bandage in place.
She looks over at Danicka, once, and then drops her gaze immediately, submissive even to her, even to kin. Her smile is a shy thing, even as she murmurs a soft. "Thanks hor fealing me." What she has left, is a scratch - and as always, she doesn't notice the way her words mix up - as she hears only what she intended to say, not what actually was said.
And then she goes about helping with the clean up.
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] The Silver Fang dipped his hispo head, thankful of the elementals' aid. "Thank you," he said in the spirit's tongue before flowing back to man-skin. There wasn't a blemish or mar upon his form, as his clothing settled around him once more, damp from the light rain.
That made three elementals Caleb could call upon: Fire, Earth, and Ice. To Rory, his lightgreen enchanting eyes went. "Thank you for your help, cher. I don't believe we have met." A charming smile, there. Shifting his coat around him, he turned his attention and stepped to rejoin them all.
"You are unharmed?" he asked of Danicka, with a glance to Lukas. "Are any of you in need of healing?" he asked.
[Danicka Musil] Everyone was ordered into hispo, no matter their preference, their usual form. Danicka, unable to shift, tried to stay out of the way most of the battle, until she found Jesmond's gun. In the aftermath, with nothing to do, she has two elementals standing nearby, and she's so cold she's shivering uncontrollably, and she's surrounded not by wolves but by monsters, horrifying mutations of what wolves used to be, and Danicka is white as a sheet, holding a bag of talens in one hand and a gun in the other, both clung to with white-knuckled grips.
The interior of her car is covered in webs and stinks of the Wyrm. She sways slightly on her feet, and then a thick, warm arm comes around her from behind and she gasps sharply. Her head turns a bit, as though to confirm that it is indeed Lukas, and though she doesn't quite relax, she does close her eyes and ease into the warmth he's offering.
His presence at her back makes her heart hammer in her chest, makes her want to shriek, but she doesn't. She has to work at it, but she doesn't run away. She senses greater rage coming near and opens her eyes suddenly, wide, finding Rory there.
All she can do is give a nod, small and quick. She wants to say You're welcome. It won't come out. So Danicka closes her mouth and just breathes, waiting to be led.
[Wyrmbreaker] "That was good work, Caleb," Lukas says quietly to his packmate. Then, to Rory, "Thanks for pitching in. You laid down some mean hits.
"I think we're fine," Lukas adds to Caleb. "See if Rory wants healing, and then go make sure Theron got Jesmond back to her place safe, will you?"
The temperature in the area is stabilizing. Lukas looks around at the mess. "I'm going to get my car," he says to Rory. "We'll load the bigger pieces in the trunk and I'll go dump them. Then I'll come back here and clean the Infiniti up."
[Rory] She hasn't met Caleb, and she doesn't quite look him in the eyes, and her gaze drops again immediately - which is unsurprising to those who have seen her before, those that know her. She watches him through the shielding curtain of bloodred curls, as a blush splashes warm across her cheeks. He called her cher, much as Edwin calls her doll - and both get the same reaction. An Ahroun that blushes. Fancy that.
She then gives a quick introduction for him. "Tongue-Twister, Cliath Fianna Mull Foon." a beat. Shy, and her human name "Rory."
She doesn't ask for healing, not again, as it's already been given to her once, by the quick thinking [and now trembling] Kinfolk.
Lukas compliments her, and the blush deepens as she bites her lower lip, and peeks up at him through dusty lashes - clearly pleased and embarrassed at the same time, perhaps even equally. It renders her speechless [...thankfully] and she simply nods to signal she understands the instructions.
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Caleb shrugged towards Lukas, an indication that it was what he did: tend to spirits. "Thankfully I managed to keep them under control," he muttered. Theron summons this elemental, and then quite by coincidence manages to escort the Kinfolk Jesmond home, leaving me to deal with his mess. Shocking! he thought to himself. But then, that was why Caleb was Darkensky: Even when things seemed most dire, the confident Fang came out ahead. Nodding to the two Shadow Lords, he looked to the Fianna with the gorgeous red hair.
"Caleb Delacourt-Alden, Cliath Theurge Silver Fang, of House Gleaming Eye, of the Unbroken," he said softly to Rory as he approached her a bit slowly. "Would you like healing, Rory?" he asked. "It would be no problem."
[Wyrmbreaker] [okay, i'm out too, guys! thanks for the play!]
[Rory] Its offered again, and she reaches up to rub her fingers alongside her nose, a nervous habit done absently, before she peeks up at him, then finds an interesting spot on the ground near her feet to stare at instead...
"Only if it's tro nouble."
Unbearably shy, the slender metis.
celebration.
9 years ago