November 12, 2002
.11.12.02. - ouch [decker-imogen-dire]

[north jersey, rune's condo
insert some madness here about how the scene got started, it can be found at decker's archive
this is Wolf logging in and saving Damon's ass for a second time in one night]


(decker)
The Modi takes the hit much as Dire does, stepping along the line of motion to lessen the impact. A loose shake of his head to clear it, doglike, wolflike; a roll of his shoulders; a steady, slow walk toward Dire. One step at a time. Feel the balcony vibrate under his weight. Feel the stairs, one two three.

"Sidin' with that bitch-ass whinin' Fianna 'gainst yer own tribe." Yeah, Dire can tell him Decker said that, too. "Tattlin' on my pack when I warned yer ass not to. 'N that's just me."

My pack. My business.

He leaps the last four steps, hits the ground stalking. Hair sprouts, sideburns, heavy and blond - Glabro form - still advancing slow and easy. Taut and ready.


(james)
he had ignored the knocking on the door
whomsoever he would have wanted to talk to would have a key
but it's amazing what one can hear through open windows
when they're laying real still and quiet on the couch

..... ta kick yer fuckin' ass

lovely
yet more evening fun with the Modi
totem phone! hello?

WHAM!

has him up and heading to the door
reaching to grab the two rebar sticks from the propped sling
one end of each is wrapped in strips of linen
the other ends?
when they pull out of the sling?
unwrapped
sharpened to razored points

CRACK!

has him opening the door
steppin' outside into the chilly night air
look, it's his favorite Skald
something of a wry grin finds its way across young features
the rebar propped across his shoulders as he descends towards the fight
musing

"Though I said he wasn't welcome around here....."

(dire)
*He cuts a few back hand springs clearly retreating from the man, still holding onto babe*

I didn't side with any Fianna aginst my tribe. I explained, after you left what happened and made him understand. * Another back flip cut to greaten distance this one with no hands. The young get is keenly agile and acrobatic.*

And I didn't have to tattle on your pack. He already knew. He just asked if it was true. I don't LIE for anyone.

* he watches Decker with those icy blue eyes. In combat now and acutly aware of his surroundings least somone sneak up on him. Being the breed he is, the punch already healed. The door to the other condo opening and Dire arking a brow. He might just have to run here in a moment. Not just yet though. His eyes on Decker* So why you sending people to Rough up Nova if it's me you wanted to talk to? *The tatto down his left arm tingles, ready to lend it's aid if called apon but he doupts it'd go that far right out in the street*

(decker)
"Ain't nobody sent nobody."

Elongated canines interfere with speech. There's a slight aspirated lisp to his words, which are low, thick with what might be ...amusement. The Skald keeps back in leaps and bounds; the Modi advances deliberate and steady, step by heavy step. On one shoulder, the brazen black tribal tattoo. On the other, the blazing black crisscrossing lines, savage as the glyph, larger, slashing down his arms.

Favorite. Pastime.
"Ain't nobody talkin' no more, neither."

Silence falls. The prowl becomes a flat-out sprint, gathered low, a battering ram, a fuckin ballistic missile.

(dire)
Ain't what I heard. * back hand spring, cart wheel, flip flip.* So I see. A drat that. * then decker charges.

Dires feet spread a moment he crouches low and then shoots straight up. Babe coming out as well to clang over the top of the light pole he'd manuvered under and he swings up.* I've no wish to fight you brother. *Gaining a squat up there.* I defended BOTH our actions to the Celt after you left. Not just mine.


(imogen)
The combat draws itself outward and down the porch steps, fast and furious (deadly); James is drawn out, raising his voice in a half taunt, half challenge.

She cannot simply shut the door and go back inside. Nor can she for obvious reasons, join the fight; standing at the balcony, useless (there are so few things she is good for in this life) grates.

Door shuts behind her and her eyes scan the other condos, brow furrowing as she steps forward, choosing the lesser of the evils.

(james)
as the Modi gets the Skald to keep backing up?
the Gnawer keeps plowing forward
long strides that eat up city blocks covering the lawn in no time

sending people to rough up Nova?
the hell?

the rebar sticks drop
one into each hand
balled end just behind his fists
the gleaming points angled towards the ground
loose
easy

savages in the jungle use rattan sticks to break bone and skin
savages in the city use lengths of steel

he's not jumping in yet
he's already had one bout tonight with outnumbered beatings
but he's close enough to do a lot of damage if the window opens up

(decker)
Does it really look like he's listening? Because he's not. As Dire gathers himself to jump, Decker's eyes flash between the ground, the Skald, and the light post. Up goes Dire. Straightahead goes Decker.

CRASH goes his shoulder into the light post and - fuckin' hell, HOW? - knocks it over. Like a fuckin' oak felled by an axe.

In the next breath the Modi's on Dire, feet planted firm and exact, liquidy-smooth, abandoning the block for the grab. Dire can hammer whatever he wants to into Decker. Decker has one goal: one hand grabbing the likely dazed (how did he knock it over? Fuckin' pole of steel ripped right out of the ground--) Skald by the hair, the other balled into a devastating fist, hammering four punches to the head and a last to the gut, machine-gun rapid, arm blurring.

(Must be a trick of the light, right?)

His packmate at his back. Decker feels it. More than that, he feels James' eagerness. Decker had his own fights, his own bones to pick; James had his. This one? James'. The Modi's fist comes loose from the Skald's hair and he bows out - just as James cuts in.

(dire)
CRASH! * Dire rides it down a platinum blond brow going up at the impressivness of the act. A soft chuckel right before he hits the ground and rolls with it. SLAM as fleash meets the turrf and then Decker is on him PUNCH PUNCH PUNCH in his face and PUNCH in his gut. Ouch Ouch OUCH,... Ouch. Hey... what the FUCK he actually FELT THAT FUCKING SHIT. He grunts and gets off one swingcracking him in the knee with the crowbar that seems to be bonded to his hand. Wack. Not as strong as Decker. Truth be told the Punchesd hurting far more than he figure they would. he spits blood to the side as he rolls shakily on to all 4s, Face already reknitting as the blood flows freely from it onto the ground. Melopdic voice going though the blood* ok..... that hurt... gotta teach me that one... * SPIT, a large chunck of bit tongue onto the ground as it's already rehealing and he comes up to one knee. Eyes on James and his toys. A coff from the devistating gut punch and he nods to James* Be right with ya.


(imogen)
The light post is smashed over with a sudden spray of sparks and a shatter of glass and crackling of light before dying, and the area is plunged into a murkiness that is not quite shadow.

Someone else must have heard the sounds and cracks of bone metal and flesh against bone must catch some sleeping humans attention.

One benefit the Garou have in their war against... themselves.
Their rage. No one dares to come out.

The red haired kinfolk watches in an encompassing silence, hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans (edge of the pocket scraping against the gouges of flesh), taut and waiting.


(james)
"If you've no wish to fight, then leave."

snarled
he's warned him once
he's not warning him again
this is it

Bring it.

he already seems to have no problems picking fights with the Ahroun
and since it appears Decker isn't inviting him into the condo any longer
he doesn't have qualms about this
not one bit

when Decker steps out?
he steps in
slipping into that pre-warmed jacket of Eagle's strength
he's fast
he's stronger than he looks
and he's a helluva lot pissier than even Decker
twisting
swinging both sticks in succession
WHAM one razor-bladed end slices across Dire's face - his eyes
WHAM the second one smashes into his throat

All bless Kali, baby


(dire)
*Sadly the Gets pain had been a ruse. Calling on a gift he'd learn far before the bone gnawer had likly even learned to shift he'd lured him in. As the rebar comes around Babe comes up and parrys them both CLLANGCLAANG!!! catching them and letting them travel up the iron into the hook and thrusting them aside. He cuts another backflip from his crouch and lands on his feet. He smiles darkly and spits a last glob of blood at the gnawer* You're not Get boy.. you sure you want a piece of this?

(decker)
Christ alFUCKINGmighty, that knee again. The kneecap cracks; tendons strain painfully. In a human, that would result in lameness for weeks. Months. Possibly forever, if the bone healed wrong.

Turned away already, Decker starts limping back up the walk he'd taken down. Dire's words draw a brief, flickering smirk across his mouth - not that Dire would be able to tell from his vantage point, in the newfound darkness cast over the walk when the lightpost (which still flickers fitfully now and then, as if not quite ready to give up the ghost yet) came crashing down.

Halfway to the stairs, the limp is a slight shuffle. At the base of the stairs, it's barely that. Behind him, CLANGing, taunting. Must make Imogen feel like she's back in her fishing village full of Garou again.

Halfway up the stairs, he's back in his homid (never human) form. A glance up at her. A small shrug.

(imogen)
Decker is forever cursed to have that knee damaged. She can count it being pulled, broken, maimed, shoot on three seperate occasions, and that's within the last month and a half. She does not move from where she stands, watching as the Fenrir Modi limps, shuffles and then nearly strides as he reaches her. Dark eyes flicker across him, resting on his hands, "You'll need to wash them again," she says, quietly, drawing her elbows in close against her body.

Never human. How his violence must seem almost unreal to her. Or perhaps all too real, memories from the fishing village, bleak thoughts and darker days. Grow up around inhumanity and you learn to lose a little bit of it yourself.

Or hide it, most of the time.

(james)
"And you're no full moon, no matter your family."

you'd think the impact of rebar on crowbar would have given him carpal tunnel by now
gotta love Garou healing
he can feel Eagle's strength rippling through him
exciting that Rage
quite a smile he's got on, too

"I'll take a piece out of you.... any Dancer.... or any fucking leech that comes into my territory when I've told them not to. Now either get out, or get up."

(dire)
*he smiles his face finally back to it's normal looking norm but in a sheen of dripping viscos red now.*

You've been wanting a piece of me for a while now limp dick. We might as well have this out while we're at it. * He slips out of the new jacket he libertated from a biker not long before and tosses it over with his bag and tosses Babe back and forth and nods*

Time for the Man dance baby, First dance is yours.

* a grin, that melodic voice taunting as he moves a bit from side to side*

I'm going to slap you silly and fuck you stupid with this here crow bar and when we're done mayby I'll buy you a beer.

So step up to the plate and have a-go.

(james)
"Limp dick."

sneered through a chuckle

"You know..... even though you're a Get? I'd expect a better insult from a Skald."

dreads shake
but when you're invited to dance, it's simply rude to not jump in
when the Gnawer moves, metal blurs
each CLANG or rebar vs crowbar echoing in the parking lot
he's fast, but the Get is faster
each blow blocked
but while the Get is strong, he's stronger
each blow driving the Skald further and further back

get. CLANG! the. CLANG! fuck. CLANG! outta. CLANG! my. CLANG! terri. CLANG! tory.

there's a misfire
James... meet Babe
jaw cracking on impact
son of a....
it forces him down and to the side
and while the Skald is fast
he's pissed
ducking under
stepping behind
spinning to backhand swing
Eagle's Might
every ounce of his strength goes into the impact on the back of Dire's skull
right at that sweet spot
right at the base

yea, thick as Get's skulls are, even they will crack wide open under that brutality

(dire)
Yeah limp dick.
Did I studder? Oh you want better? Ok How about.

* they blurr into action. When somone attacks you it's simply rude not to meet them with all you got.
Each clang of Rebar vs Crowbar Hurting his hands like a mother fucker.
He falls back from the sheer power of the gnawers attack. figuring out pretty quickly that Deckers and his strength isn't all their own..*
Imbread! * clang*
Knuckel dragging! * clang*
Pussy lick! *Clang*
Mouth breathing! *clang*
Street Trash! * clang*
Troglidite!!! * clang!!*

* then babe gets up and taps the gnawers jaw and spins him down and around.
Having been clacked in the back of the head one too many times for his own liking he bends to the side at a FUCKED UP angle and takes the rebar though his left shoulder.
SKILTH!

THe sharpened end peires fleash but the wiry Get knows a thing or two about pig stickers.

He continues his bend and throws a spin into it, ripping that rebar from James' hand as he gains a bit of distance, blood starting to trickel from the wound.

Babe held in the other hand. Still feeling no pain he nods*

Now ya just gotta tell me. how you get so strong?

* a wry grin. He doesn't seem to concerned at the moment.*

I'm thinkin' it's gotta be your totem. Cuz it' sure aint' your SHOES!

* his hand comes up and grips the rebar and with a blurred motion, a bit of his rage pouring out the rebar is pulled from his shoulder and launched down and thourh the foot of the gnawer. Dire leaps high, leaving a faint little blood ark as he goes up up and over. landing behind the momentarily immoble gnawer and bringinBabe down on the mans elbo

CRUNCH. Then as the last rebar falls He simply steps away and straightens up. Babe lowerd to his side and his head tilted as well. unseen under the flannel shirt his wound already healing. It'd went straight though but othe single redeeming grave of being born Metis is that you ALWAYS heal.*

We good now? You wann keep dancing?

(james)
SON! OF!! A!!! BITCH!!!!

it's not as if having a shaft of rebar thrust through your foot is bad enough
this? is his only pair of boots
you can fuck with a Gnawer
you don't fuck with his stuff

it's the fracturing bone in his arm that actually gets a growling yelp out of him
glaring at the Skald

"No, we're not good. And I think you've ruined my chances of dancing competantly... or at least with any rhythm."

reaching and PULLING the rebar out of his foot
FUCKING CHRIST
red clouds his vision from the pain

(dire)
*he nods and looks at his shirt* I liked this shirt. * he srugs* Your white.. I think. You can't dance anyway. So... how about that beer? * he grunts as the hole THOUGH his shoulder heales. The gift keeping the pain he KNOWS should be there from effecting him*

(james)
there's a smirk
and actually?
he laughs

yep, fucking laughs
he can't get up yet, what else is he supposed to do?
he's not as quick on healing as Mr. Dire Warning over here

"May have to rain check tonight, they won't appreciate my bleeding all over the bar."

just accept it James
and he actually holds a hand out

"Allright, we're good."

(get)
*he nods and walks over. Helps the man up and nods to him* Catch ya later then. * he walks over. Gathering up his jacket. HIS JACKET now. and puts it on over the healing hole. He grabs his bag and nods heading out. That was fine. The get and the Gnawer played. As far as the get was concerned the Gnawer showed good graces. It's over for him any way.* I know where I can get you some boots. I'll toss um on your porch before dawn.

(james)
his jaw hurts
his arm hurts
his foot... really... hurts

but that actually gets something of a lopsided grin

"Thanks. Alpha's law still stands though.... next time you need something? Call first... send a note.... allright?"

dark eyes look to the porch
it's not.... that... far... is it?

(dire)
*he nods* No problem. I'll stay away now. Only came because I thought you were lookin for me. * The get doesn't dishonor the Gnawer by offering help. He turns to go get those boots from the same place he got the jacket*

(james)
he wouldn't have asked for the help anyway
though appreciates the lack of offer, in a strange little way
of course, he's not clarifying what Alpha's law was, either
exactly

and it's a slow journey
collecting the tossed rebar
hopping, shuffling and limping his way back
it'd be easier if he could use both arms for balance
lots of pauses
we won't even go into the trial of the stairs
or that Rune is going to kill him for bleeding on the carpet

but he makes it

(dire)
*After a bit he returns carrying the boots. A gentle lob and they land with Thumps on the deck and DIre turns heading for the barrens. The biker wouldn't miss them. They wern't half bad. Looking like Italian Tank boots*


Posted by james at November 12, 2002 12:00 AM