drums-on-skulls: .09.10.03. - aftereffects [erik-kemp-tucker]

September 10, 2003

.09.10.03. - aftereffects [erik-kemp-tucker]

[forums, warehouse, carmen hunt aftermath]

(erik)
You've all been called to assemble at the wearhouse. James, Kemp, and even Tucker get the
call from Erik after a day of rest and reflection on the terrible price paid the day before. Erik is no
galliard, but he must have something to say.

The wearhouse, squating between two other such buildings down on the docks where the big
oceanliners come in, looks abandoned and abused. Though all ground floor windows are boarded up, as well as all the doors but one, acces is easily gained if one can climb. Still, desperate as the homeless down here are, not a one will brave the interior for a night out of the weather. The one door not boarded up is a heavy, iron affair, rusted over the years and padlocked with a five pound lock. James has the only key, other than Erik (and Decker and Rune), so he waits outside for the other two to arrive. The hinges make a horrible squealing when the door is finally opened. Erik forbids the use of oil to quiet it.

Inside the wearhouse is empty but for a few spare crates containing old, moldy stuffed animals
and a few fifty gallon drums, empty. At the far end a room has been built right in the middle of
the floor. It is two stories tall with plenty of clearance under the high ceilings of the main
building. A metal walkway runs up the side all the way to its roof. A fire is burning up there, and
the lanky, unmistakable form of Erik waits by it.

(kemp)
He got the message alright and it made his gut tighten even more than it already was and his heart sink.

Now what this time?

His eyes sunken and haunted looking. Cheeks hollowed from having next to no appetite since the blood bathe that he had done. Feeling like he was going out of his mind since he had murdered the kid. And that's what it was, murder. He could barely remember most of it; memories came in nightmare flashes. You killed Carmen. Killed a helpless little girl. Killed the only person that accepted you for what you were. Murdered the little girl that had befriended and trusted you. MURDER!
Covering his ears with both hands to try and close out the voice of guilt in his mind.

And now here he was again, being hauled out to do what? Maybe he'd have to eat an infant this time, or beat some old woman with her walker?

One thing was for certain, he had to hitch a ride cause he not only lacked a car, he lacked a license.

Quiet, very quiet and withdrawn once he manages to make it to the warehouse. Sinking further down inside with the sight of the others. Those haunted eyes on his feet, shoulders hunched.

(james)
after giving the rides he needed to
the Gnawer took the still passed out kid back to Rune's condo
his condition begged a bath, but James just dumped him back in Luc's bed
the boy wasn't a cub anymore so he'd have to start taking initiative
and waking up covered in the dried gore will help the reality sink in

not that it will ever make it any easier to accept

Drums on Skulls knows too well there are some things a Garou does he'll never accept
the next twenty-four hours are amazingly quiet at the condo
the young Fenrir isn't the only one doing a lot of reflection or reliving nightmares
James only checks on him to make sure.... well... he's not sure what
he can't prevent the depression or nightmares
there's little he can say to make it any better
not that either of them are in a talkative mood

by the time the call goes out and Kemp's herded towards the Tacoma
James isn't looking much better than the cub
the several empty packs on the balcony state he was parked there the entire night
he didn't see it happen - but he felt it, he saw the umbral reflection of the aftermath
that was enough for him, thank you
somewhere in the night, fortunately, he found the shower

the black truck's parked in a garage out back of the warehouse
the shortcut within passed by in favor of lingering by the metal door to gather Tucker
the sea breeze should be refreshing, but the exhaust from the liners and memory stain the effect
they aren't waiting long before James leads the two younger Garou inside

"Walk where I do...."

it sounds unmistakably like a warning as they enter the dark structure
there's a reason that the big door is never oiled, and the relocked pad so damn heavy
and there are things a far sight more unpleasent between it and the two story room
(Livingston has gotten entirely too creative under the influences of the bluntling!)
on the outside, it just seems nothing more than part of the warehouse
it's just as dirty and abused as the rest of the place
inside, however, Rune's made it rather comfortable in taking out her aggressions of everyone being at her place
right now - they're not getting a tour, the Fostern makes a beeline for the stairwell and the roof

nod up to his Alpha on the slow stroll to join him
sling with the rebar (clean and rewrapped) is set quietly off to the side
the flickering lights of the fire cast even stranger shadows on his face
deepening the darkness beneath his eyes
spidering the loose dreads heavy vines over his cheekbones
hardening the set of jaw
staining the scars on his back a darker shade of black
easy going and reserved as he's been these past months
now, unforgettably, James reshouldered the primal mantle of a predator
primitive (dangerous, frightening) beast in the structural trees of this urban jungle

(erik)
"Hmph." Erik is tired of waiting for Tucker. Maybe the Fang thinks Erik acts too much like an ahroun, so he picks up Erik's Dark-Moon slack. Either way he's gonna miss a story.

There's no where to sit up on the roof of the inner building, other than the roof itself. Erik stands, though. Smoke from the fire pours up and up, out the vents in the blacked-out skylight above. He turns from checking the door one more time.

"Ok. So I got a story to tell. Its about how I first learned the same lesson the kid did night 'fore last..."

(Kemp)
And so here he was, on top of a building, within a building? Talk about odd set-ups. Though at this time he wasn't thinking so much about weird set-ups. He'd followed and walked where James walked like a robot.

Now here he was, wondering why he had been hauled to this place to listen to some story. Most important, was this Learning story going to lead up to making him eat a baby or something?

Standing there with hunched shoulders, looking more like a beat dog than anything else.

(james)
luckily for Kemp, there being nothing to sit on alleviated towards nothing to store waiting baby-snacks in
badly worn Cochran II's settle about shoulder's width apart
the lanky Ahroun's just as comfortable standing as sitting
Zippo flaring to spark up the Camel casting another lightsource to throw the shadows on his face into temporary chaos
the offer of the pack and lighter to his Alpha is automatic
acceptance or refusal or theft of the joint within the box taken in stride - and silence

short of the Modi's grunts, Blood Eagle is about the least wordy of them all
if he's going to tell a story... one better shut up and listen

he can't help but feel an aching sorrow for the kid
(too nice for your own good, Jamey-boy)
he's.... stood in the young Fenrir's place before
deep, sighing, smoke-filled inhale and exhale just shrugs it all away
gotta keep moving or get sucked under
(sometimes, by whatever means necessary to survive another day)
he knows that as well as anyone gathered on the inner rooftop

(erik)
"Alright. I's born up in Detroit. White kid in darkey town. Had a mom. She died. Mugged t' death two blocks fr'm home. When I's ten. Had a dad. Went littl' psycho. When I's ten."

He looks over to the door, the only door, again. Nothing but door there, though, so he picks up the story again with a shrug.

"Some preacher came by, give me dad a bible. Life, death, went on. Some years later I had my change. Life, death went on. Kinda fucked it up, tho, so dad 'n me lit out fer St Louey. Took nuthin but our guns an' dad's bible."

"'cept Dad's bible wasn't no bible. Not 'o God. Not 'o Jesus Christ on no stick neither. No. Dad's bible was a bible o' th' wyrm. I was too young to know't. Too green. Too stupid to do what needed doin. So, dad kept readin his bible. Taught me somewhat outta it too..."

He leaves off the story to glare at the pair of them, daring, asking, demanding they call him on his lessons. Can they speak under that fanatic, blue glare? Do they dare? He leaves off of James and focuses on Kemp. Truth-Through-Frenzy. Ha!

"So, 'ventualy dad came possessed. Fomor. That's right. My. Own. Dad. Stupid still I kept 'im locked in da basement. He got out... Tha' was 'fore I learned me the knack o trackin', so t'was a long hunt. Months. All Her faces watched me 'fore I found 'im. Took me a while to kill 'im too. He w's strong with wyrm's power. He was my dad. He taught me everythin' I knew. Everythin' I know. I killt 'im. Clawed out 'is heart and mashed it to pulp..."

"So I don' wanna 'ere no more whinin! No more waitin'! No more fuckin questionin neither! We's Garou. We kill th' wyrm. Wyrm takes one o yer own, you kill't all the faster. You blame yerself, if blame ya must..."

He pauses, maybe done, then tosses something silvery right at Kemp. It is a necklace, carved with a tiny Fenrir glyph. "T'was 'ers. Ye' done well o'nuff to earn it, Truth-through-Frenzy of the Fenrir."

(Tucker)
Tuck has been watining across the street for James to let him in for ohhhh a good hour and a half, when he finally decides to make th two mile walk to the convenience store to grab some smokes. He returrns, not forty minutes later to see kemps form sliding through the large metal door. Running to catch it before it closes he nearly sprains his ankle. But he's got it. "Fuckin' Wonderfull" he thinks. He watches James' mazy path from the door and marks it perfectly, walking it impossibly slowly so as not to get knocked the fuck out by one the Alpha's traps. He reaches the group just as Erik begins his story, deciding not to speak until spoken to.

(Kemp)
Silence wasn't something he normally did well, infact, his mouth generally ran like water through a sieve, but this time he was silent. Not a word through the entire story. The bad part was, he was being told something about this man that he didn't know, but he really wasn't getting where it was going. Even in the end with the basically, eye for an eye conclusion, he still was uncertain. Maybe he was sunk too far in guilt, or maybe something inside had died.

He did however grab the thing tossed at him. That flash of silvery metal coming at him through the air, like the flash of a silver knife just before pain beyond thought had gone through his leg and entire body from there. And just like that silver knife, Erik's words cut him to the core.
"T'was 'ers. Ye' done well o'nuff to earn it, Truth-through-Frenzy of the Fenrir."
Inwardly cringing with those words. He killed Carmen. He's said before that he was a monster and now he was sure of it. Just barely refraining from holding the charm out as far as he could like it was posioned or might turn on him to bite him.

Managing a bare nod to Erik, though not saying anything cause he got the impression he wasn't suppose to ask or say anything. And the way it sounded, like a monster, he wasn't suppose to feel anything either for killing the little girl.

(james)
((thought we decided on Truth IN Frenzy? *blinks*))

"S'not easy."

James picks up as Blood Eagle finishes
he didn't buckle under that fanatic glare
(I won't back down. Not even from you)
but he knows better than to interrupt
and it's not the first time Eric's knowledge of the Wyrm has come up
by now he's dropped to a crouch near the fire
the dreadlocked savage ready to pounce
butt's flicked into the roaring flames
arm swings back to rest elbows over knees
hands mirroring each other in the dangle between
there's an acknowledgement (finally) of Tucker's arrival
but his attention focuses mainly on the young Fenrir

"Y'think y'r a monster f'r killin' som'ne you loved."

the Alpha's Detroit slang
the Beta's California coy
the Modi's 'bama drawl
the Theurge's rastafarian ramble
the Gnawer's Yankee slur
it's really a wonder if anyone in the pack speaks normally
or at least, reasonably clearly

"Ev'ry one've us has a story like that. Ev'ry Garou y'meet will. 'Member how I tol' you I got these scars? Nev'r mention' th' Spiral tha' gave'm to me used t'be my Alpha, n' the rest of'm use t'be my pack. Th' Wyrm took my pack, 'n my mate..... my fuckin' family.... 'n I was too green t'see it 'til it was too late... I was jus' determined it would'n' take me. Think Carmen's th'first loved one those sticks've beat down?"

there's a breif silence, next, just a beat
long enough to allow for a wry, lopsided smile that's just as scarred as his back
just because he almost never speaks of the irony that's in his deed name....
..... doesn't mean it doesn't cut everytime he speaks it

"Her daddy gave't to'er." chin lifts up in a nod towards the pendant, soon as the angle changes so that he can see it clearly "Give'r a sense of fam'ly 'n that a li'le orphan belonged some'ere. 'Member that instead'a that thing y'killed. That wa'n't Carmen anymore. Y'killed a fomor. Jus' like I killed th' fomor tha' took Jenna 'n our baby." muscular shoulders roll in a shrug "Think've it how you have to, blame who y'have to, hate how y'have to. We all make th' mistakes, 'n half've us don' survive 'em to learn. Keep fightin' f'r faith, rev'nge, 'r that you know no oth'r way anymore.... jus' keep fightin' - fast'r, long'r, 'n hard'r. S'what we were all born t' do no matter how much we hurt f'r some've it."

(kemp)
Listening in silence to James' story. Plenty of things were going through his head. Plenty of things not given voice cause he figured he wasn't suppose to say anything and Erik always looked like he might rip his head off just to shit down his neck. So, he stood there with hunched shoulders, listening.

Wanting to curl up and die like he felt he was inside. Wanting to toss the necklace somewhere else so he didn't have to see it winking at him like some accussing finger. You killed her. You're a monster. They are monsters. We are all monsters and we are suppose to revel in fighting and killing people. That's what he was getting from this. Everyone could be one of those worm things, heck even he probably was one, look at what he did. But if you were the survivor you could say the other one was the worm? Really confused about it all. Everyone's family was a worm sooner or later. When would it be his turn? How was he suppose to know who was and who wasn't, or was it just a matter of deciding?

He never would of killed Carmen if there wasn't that horrble sound in his head, splitting it open. If it weren't for the girl smacking the shit out of him with that bat. If she hadn't gone nuts and stabbed him with that knife. God that knife had hurt. That was really all he remembered. He still hurt, not just in his soul but bone deep the pain like a punishment for what he had done. But all he remembered was the pain and the need to stop it. The need to make it all stop anyway he could. He couldn't even remember what he had done. Everything from the moment the knife had hit him was a red blur of pain.

And now he had that damned necklace of her's. Some twisted reminder or trophy, given to the kid by a father that from the little bit he had heard about him, was twisted too, or maybe a little retarded.

So many questions and it was all bottled up inside him.
(erik)
A baleful (like always) glare at Tucker reminds the Silver Fang that he is the next order of buisness. For now he will have to wait, and add what he will.

Then he turns back to Kemp, who he doesn't think is at all getting the point here. "So, Yer thinkin thatcha just made to kill. Yer wonderin what makes ya all speacial. Why you get ta be a murderer. Am I right?"

It seems the alpha expects an answer, and is a good bit shrewder than he looks. There is no menace in his tone though, which is a much better measure of his mood than any expression he might have.
(kemp)
"No." Frowning with a mixture of confusion and sulliness. "No, I don't think I'm special, at all. And I don't think I get to be a murderer, I already am a murderer and believe you me, i don't reveal in it or feel special about it. I feel fuckin sick about it."

All the pain and hurt rising up at once now that he'd been nudged with the questions.

"How the hell am I suppose to know who's got worms and who doesn't? How do I know I did the right thing and that I don't have worms too?" Throwing his arms into the air, his voice cracking like when it first started to change. "How do I know I'm not fuckin crazy!?" Chest rising and falling with his quick, agitated breathing.

(erik)
"Oh. That's fuckin easy. To the rest of the world now, you are fuckin crazy. How do you know you aint a monster... Cause that's whatch yer thinkin... Cause you feel sick about it."

Oddly enough, Erik is not working up into a fevered preeching about the wyrm. He has kept his voice calm, if still a desert rasp. His eyes soften as he remembers some of his earlier days. But fuck, this kid aint got that kind of time.

"And I'm sorry, kid, but you won't always be able to tell the difference. Won't always be able to know yer prey, and, sometimes, it won't matter. There aint but a few hunnert humans on this rock aint tryin to kill 'Er. That's too many fer us to git, so we try an' stick to the one's as gone too far down an' turned into monsters worse n' us. Them, an' the ones close t' us as turn too. That's a point a' pride, a point o honor."

Again he breaks off, but something about the set of his shoulders speaks to you all, telling you to remain quiet.

He continues. "Shit, I didin' wanna start ye off like that. Had my way, I'd'a showed ya what ya'd be fightin for. Such beauty. Such natural peace and rightness. What?! think I don' know it? Think I'm just some psychopath with a taste fer blood? Well... Fuck that!

"Look, kid, the wyrm... an' it's WYRM, not worm... got 'er. Made 'er bad, evil, whatever. Did it cause it knew she was one a' ours. What th' fuck were we s'posed t' do?"

(cody)
He reurns Erik's glare with eyecontact of his own, not menacing but not pleasant. Deciding it's time, he speaks.

"Look kid, you're not a fucking murderer. You're a soldier. You get to fight a war for the fucking world. Now, you can do two things: One, you can shut the fuck up, quit whining and be a damned hero; or two you can keep questioning everything your -rhyas tell you and get killed or taken by the fucking Wyrm."

A bit long winded especially for Tucker whose massive form is poised over the kid aggressivly so as t intimidate him into listening with his Rage.

(kemp)
He might not look like it, but he was listening to Erik and he still had a million questions. He'd been tossed in head first into a nightmare and none of it was making sense yet. Everything was still clouded with blood in his mind.

And then Tucker opened his mouth and something just snapped inside. This guy had opened his mouth, talking the tough guy shit everytime he saw him and so far, all he had seen was nothing but flapping lips and hot air streaming out of his pie hole.

Bristling, feeling like the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. "Ah, the sage opens his mouth and spews forth all the many years of his great experiance and personal first hand knowledge. Lo and beyold, the sun has risen." Pausing a moment before continuing. " Listen, far as I can tell, no one was talking to you and I certainly didn't ask for a God, country and glory speach from you. Especially one strewn with fuck this and fuck that to make it seem as if what's coming out is truly the end all, be all, holy bible of experiance and knowledge. . Now I know you think you're all that and a bag of chips, and for all I know, someone else thinks that too. But if you don't mind, I think I'll listen to those with a bit more experiance and something to say other than threats and fucks and words I never heard of before. I sure ain't gonna listen to someone talking about my rye-breada this and that. And threats? well they don't impress me much. Those that can, do. The others use threats." Tapping the side of his temple with one finger.

Frankly he didn't care if Tucker beat the shit out of him or killed him on the spot. It was more a case of put up or shut up. And he hadn't seen any putting up yet. It wasn't Tucker in there slaughtering that little girl. All he'd seen from Tucker was threats and cussing, just like all the bullies he had ever been stuck living with from one foster home to the next since he could remember.

"Now you're spouting Hero's and wars at me like some B movie. Only problem is, you forgot the subtitles cause I don't speaka da language." He was getting about one word in twenty being said, unfortunately. He had absolutely nothing to connect those few words to. Breathing quick while waiting for the expected blows to come. Only this time, he wasn't going to let the bully win, not without totally and completely flipping and he was so close to that now with the threatening posture and rage being thrust in his face.

(james)
"Monst'rs don' feel guilt." said slowly as the Fostern Ahroun stretches to stand "Monst'rs don' feel remorse."

cool, calm, collected James
that's right, the PR guy for the Eagle pack
backlit by the crackling fire - he looks more the dangerous animal than the easy going drummer
the shadows cast in twisting ropes from heavy dreads drape his face
the hard muscle coiled and cut by grief's weight loss and neglect flexing in slow shrug
the deep scars creeping over his shoulders from beneath wifebeater seeming to writhe and squirm through heat's flicker
which probably means he got up and ready to move for a reason

"Jus' 'cause we got th' wolf in us don' mean w'r inhuman. You've ev'ry right t' feel sick to y'r stomach 'bout what'cha did. Ev'ry one've us got a mem'ry that kills us each time it comes up ag'in." there's a breif pause filled with a half-sigh "Tuck's gotta point..."

a step forward
his chin slightly lifts
deep umber eyes locked on the Fang
the color of Gaia's rich, moist soil suddenly hard. as. steel.
(Back. The fuck. Off. Cliath.)
they were called here for more important things than pissing contests
and James knows well enough force isn't the way to get through to Kemp
then the gaze swings back to the young Fenrir

when the totem joined the pack together that night nearly a year ago, maybe the most surprising thing they all heard was that the Gnawer, the born and bred Hood - easily the kindest and most selflessly giving of all that had gathered - would be granted compassion by the great, firey raptor in order to guide his purpose and temper his intolerance

sometimes, he can still feel that glyphed brand burning against his breastbone
the mark that will never let him forget he's Eagle's Chosen no matter how vague the distant night's memories are
the tones that shade slurred speech are nowhere near as harsh as they could, or should, be in reprimand
within compassion, there is a bitter agony behind the Ahroun's mellow and controlled thesad
but it doesn't mean he won't put the bristling kid back in his place, either
even if there's a hint of amusement in those dark eyes at the young Garou standing his ground to the other Ahroun's threat

".... y'r one've Gaia's soldiers, like it'r not. We were all born th's way, none'v's had a choice. Save this: you c'n accept it'n start livin' 'gain 'n fight th' War.... 'r you c'n let it kill you fast'r slow as i' pleases." it's no surprise this is overwhelming the kid, James was raised around the Albany Sept and a lot of his lessons were still hard to swallow, so it's a safe bet he's making this explanation slow and simple "S'm days'll be full'a glory, others'll be full'a pain..... won' know which it'll be 'til th' day's done. Jus' cause all y' know so far' 's pain 'n confusion doesn' mean that's all it'll ev'r be. Erik's right..... one day y' will see what'cher fightin' for. Y'll re'lize th' thing that inspires 's all, what we 'ere all born t' protect."

there's another pause
it's filled with the sound of the fire (their Rage) snapping in the darkness
it's filled with the sound of flexed jaw grinding to pop and work out the ache because he hasn't spoken this much in months

"But 'til ya do? Th' Wyrm won' stop. It'll keep takin' anyone 't can an' drag 'em down, make'm in'a true monsters. Erik's da'..... my pack'n mate.... the Spirals tha' killed Tuck's fath'r..... 'n Carm'n, too. It'll pollute 'n twist'm 'n torture'm in ways we can' even imagine. We c'n only do what 't is we feel 's right..... so you c'n keep thinkin' you murder' a little girl, 'r you c'n know y' save 'er fr'm what worse thing she'd've been t'morrow. Y' freed'r fr'm tha' torture'n fate, Kemp, 'n the only way she could be."

"Clear 'nuff?" a brow lifts towards the frame of dreads, of course another one of those at the tainted site could have gone in and done the deed instead, easily and without batting an eye, but maybe it's a little less oblique now that perhaps there was another reason the youngest was sent in - it may have been a horrible trial by fire, but that little girl was his friend who needed to be released from the dagger clutches of the most foul beast.... honor and pride, baby, honor and pride.... if only Kemp could see the beloved savior within the hated sinner, then the Gnawer's grin twists a little lopsided "'n -rhya's th' suffix you addr'ess y'r elders with."

(kemp)
Not so much deflating as instantly withdrawing inwards. As soon as James agreed with Tucker and said he was everything Tucker had said he was. That was the moment everything clammed up and hatches were batten down. He'd been through these kind of storms before and had learned to shut down, take the beating and not let it inside. Only one thing had gotten past his wards into that hiding place inside him since he'd learned to clam up and that was the little girl he had killed. Now he was swiftly retreating to that inner place.

First Tucker with. " You're a soldier. You get to fight a war for the fucking world. Now, you can do two things: One, you can shut the fuck up, quit whining and be a damned hero; or two you can keep questioning everything your -rhyas tell you and get killed or taken by the fucking Wyrm."

Then James backed him up. "y'r one've Gaia's soldiers, like it'r not. "

That's what got through like a blow to his gut. So he was suppose to say fuck to the entire world and go being some soldier for something he still didn't understand and only had fragments of information on. Something he was getting glowing examples of how to be from those around him. Decker first, then Tucker with his fuck you, fuck them, fuckin kill and stop being a fucking baby.

It was no wonder he was getting overload and with the way tempers were starting to rise, history had taught him to withdraw, shut his mouth and pretend life couldn't be better. Best to withdraw, take the beating. His head lowering, eyes glazing over in the retreat. Mumbling those magic words in a flat dead tone. Those magic words that sometimes kept someone from breaking your arm or leg, or busting your nose or lip.

"You're right, I'm sorry."
(erik)
Oh no, Erik may not look it, but Kemp, and Tucker will come to realize that he is smarter than that. He sees Kemp withdraw and while he is no mind reader, he has been here before. He's been student and teacher in this instance already. So maybe its time for a lesson in specifics.

"A'right, lets drop that fer now. Kid's havin a tough enuff time with it without you two harpin on. So, lets talk about Gore Hounds. Who knows what they are? No one? Well, lissen up then...

"Sometimes, the wyrm will corrupt a spirit. Hell, sometimes corrupt spirits just are born all on their own. Spirits of murder, rape, whatever. No reason to get into that. Well, these spirits, Banes we call 'em, can possess people. When this happens we call that person a Fomor. This twists those possessed. I seen 'em turn into some nasty shit. fought one once that'd vomit up poisons on ya. fought another had 'bout 12 arms, all jellyfish like.

"Ok, so a Gore Hound is a specialized Fomor. Wyrm makes 'em outta people in a special way. Wyrm first makes these videos, or even video games. Taint them subtle like. Then it forces ya to watch 'em, though sometimes forcin' aint necessary. These Videos call out to the special type o bane that'll then come and turn 'em into a Gore Hound.

"So, thena Gore Hound is born. Every one I seen, and I seena few, is super strong, and usually fights like they got our Rage inside 'em. And none suffers the delierium..."

He pauses, letting this sink in, so much useless (realy) knowledge. Why would a garou care? Don't need to know how their made to kill them, do ya?

"That's what they did to Carmen. It wasn't 'er no more, Kid. Believe me. It was a Gore Hound only usin 'er body to cause US dis emotional pain. You see?"

(james)
"'m not harpin' on 'im." interjected in a moment Blood Eagle pauses for breath before launching into the lesson "Jus' tryin' a tellim th' truth. Di'n't mean t' come down so hard..."

whether that last was meant for his Alpha or the young Fenrir....that's up to them to decide
the breif downward flick of his gaze an affirmation easily directed towards Erik
one of those subtle messages in body language, backing down before higher station
maybe it's the element of sorrow in his voice that lends the apology towards Kemp
muscular shoulders heave in a slow shrug to physically shake it off

the boy isn't the only one that's devastated by what happened

but Fosterns aren't allowed to draw within themselves anymore
with rank comes a responsibility of example and some sense of leadership
.... at least.... theoretically.....
James is still getting used to this whole being more than a guttermutt in the background thing
the Rotagar isn't the only one that noticed Kemp's emotional and mental retreat
seeing it made the Ahroun inwardly cringe
he's a Hood.... he's supposed to help others, not hurt them
(but the truth can hurt more than any lie, you know that Jamey-boy)
any frustration there may be at feeling more than a little useless shows in little more than a small sigh

lesson at hand, right-o, Boss
the smooth segue into the specifics to turn attentions elsewhere probably the best idea
that would be why Blood Eagle is the Alpha
James has people skills, not leading skills
so he settles cross-legged on a comfortable slab of roofing and lights up another Camel

he's well aware of how powerful banes and fomor can be
he wouldn't speak the way he does now if it wasn't for a bane
(and that fucking traitorous Fang bitch that turned on him when he was only trying to protect her)
one night he almost didn't make it back to the condo because of a fomor with an assault rifle
(those bullet wounds itched something insane while they healed)
and while it may not be necessary for a Garou to know how his foe was created
(but isn't it a good way to destroy something in unraveling the threads that made it?)
his Frankenweiler mentors would be proud at how the Ahroun files the information away
(he was warned, such knowledge could be dangerous....)

"So...." ventured on the exhale of smooth smoke that will never blacken his lungs, half-ashed Camel pinned between calloused index and middle fingers used to gesture vaguely at the Fang before the log is flicked backwards towards the fire "Tha' vid'eo'n the VCR Tuck smashed.... was one've'm." seemed clear and simple enough with the girl being trapped in the room and what became of the situation, his voice is softer now, thoughtful, dark eyes first move to the younger, then older Cliath.... he's not leaving Kemp out, just understands that his attention was otherwise occupied (and... frenzied...) so doesn't expect an answer "Get'a look't what was on i'? R' the label af'er it broke 'n popped outta th' machine??"

glance strafes to his Alpha, a moment, then back
not meaning to interrupt or digress or step out of line again
he's just curious, now, about what was used to steal their little friend in exchange for so much pain
Blockbuster sure as hell won't be the same anymore....

(tucker)
He listens to the verbal tirade from the kid and....

chuckles.

In fact it almost turns into full laugh before he catches himself and looks back at the Kemp, smiling. "Anytime Kid, Anytime." Being a Fenrir was the only thing saving this kid, a little balls is to be expected from a cub with Decker and Erik for teachers.

He slouches back and listens to Erik and James, almost jumping when addressed by the Gnawer.

Tucker nods slowly, "Yeah it was called Vengance IV: Blood of the Wolf, some fucked up shit, though man the only thing I saw was a fucking Hispo wolf mauling a group school kids. I mean YOUNG FUCKING KIDS man." A visible cringe comes over Tuck as he explains this. "But I didn't get anything else, should be enough to find the production company or somthing."

He looks to the Alpha and the Ganwer, paying almost no attention to the cub, whatsoever.

(erik)
"Fuck it. Won't do no good anyhow..." He sighs. "There's too many of 'em to do anyways. No..." He pauses, thinking, considering, one final time beofre he drops the bomb.

"Yeah. Way I figure it was Endron did it to 'er. We know they're wyrm, we know they know we're 'round, and I know they run da show 'round here. So, yeah, we're goin back in. ALL of us." He spears a look towards Kemp, looks like he is included.

"Don't expect Deck or Rune back in time, so glory's ours. Now, listen up, cause this is da plan... See..."

His eyes, cold, blue, light from within with a fevered, fanatic glow. He's really getting into it now. "We'll be sneakin a bomb into the main complex. Gonna use Billy and his boys fer a decoy while we do that. Kemp, Truth Through Frenzy, whatever, you in? You wanna show 'em what did it to 'er not to fuck with us Eagle's? Cause... We'll need ya. You too, Tuck. 'Cept first I need ya, the both of ya, introduced to the totem. Tuck, that's yer 'sponsibility, fer the both of ya. Got it? Good. Questions? Ask 'em now cause you know what heppens to them what asks too late..." An ominous glare might remind them that Erik has no qualms about a serious ripping for those who question in time of war.
(kemp)
Most everything was Greek to him. There was nothing like listening to another language when you only understood a word or two and this was very much like that. Now he was getting something about watching T.V. or playing video games being bad for you and turning you into something else. Ok, so like in school they always said T.V. rotted your brain. Somewhere in this there must be a teacher somewhere going, "I told you so."

All the conversation was flying over his head, swirling around with the confusion in his mind until that laughter started. A braying like a Jackass that went right through his head to hit that last nerve and strum it. There was some smartassed comment that hit like an additional bray. It was all mixing with the roar in his head. Somewhere in there, there was mention of bombing some gas station or something and him having to go somewhere with Tucker, whom he had renamed something else in his mind.

Confusion mixing with rage, all going around and around in his head like the flushng of a toilet in one big swirl.

Nodding and shaking his head all at once. Really past the point of clear thought. He just needed to stop the pain in his head and soul. Needed to make it all stop before he popped.

(james)
the look on the Gnawer's face is less than impressed at Tucker's recollection
that's just.... just....

breath huffs out
lip curls more down than up
shoulders roll their discontent

moving on...

now there's something to be said about that fanatic glow in Blood Eagle's eyes
most would probably begin to back away from the zealous madman
wondering how much sense leads the devotion
but the one thing the Ahroun doesn't do is question
at least during a time like this

ignoring, of course, the reiteration nobody knows when the others are coming back, not even their all-knowing Alpha
(pack is everything to James)

dark gaze swings towards the two younger Garou
one has a reputation for questioning authority
the other looks about a shift of weight away from a meltdown
may be opening a floodgate, here
but chin lifts in that invitation to speak signal
floor's open, they better take the chance while they can

(kemp)
Only bits and pieces were getting in, and even that was swirling round and round in his head, all looking for a way out before he just popped. Barely noticing the looks from Eirk and James.

Right now the thing chasing round in his head was the little bit Tucker said that sunk in. Sunk in like an accusation.
" The only thing I saw was a fucking Hispo wolf mauling a group school kids. I mean YOUNG FUCKING KIDS man."
That was him, that's what he did and the kid was Carmen. Tucker was talking about him. He did it, no matter how they tried to put it, he did it. One minute one of them was telling him it had to be done. The next, someone was telling him it was a good thing. Then the next it was like a curse spilling out of Tucker's mouth.
Too confused and bombarded to sort any of it out. Input both positive and negative were coming in too fast and from too many angles. And it was getting all screwed up and twisted around in his head, which was throbbing to the point that he was sure everyone could hear the roaring in his ears.

Shoulders hunched, curling in on his misery and pain. He couldn't say anything, if he did the laughter and ridicule would come again. If he opened his mouth to speak he might not get anything out but the scream clawing at the inside of his skull. Breathing short and quick. A sheen of sweat coating his face and neck even though he seemed to be trembling from the cold.

(erik)
Well, thats about as far as he figures they're gonna get tonight. Erik thinks about going over his plan right now, but in the back of his soul he feels a growing presence. A warrior is returning to the fold, he feels. Best to wait. Best to wait.

"Ok. We're through here. Couple days we meet with Fog pack. Ya all expected to be there."

Well, that's that.

(kemp)
That was it? He could go and end the confusing grilling? Carmen was dead. What he got from it was it wasn't Carmen, but if it wasn't Carmen in there, then how come it looked like her? And if it was like some movie (the only thing he really had to go by) then was it like an evil spirit in her? But if he had to murder Carmen to release her, then by the same reasoning, wouldn't that mean that Carmen had to be in her body?

Clinching his head in both fists. Crap, most of this shit just didn't make sense to him. There were excuses given as reasons around and around and around, hitting from all sides. Or maybe he was just suppose to cuss his head off and revel in killing everything he saw? That seemed to be one of the examples (twisted or otherwise) that was getting through to him. Mixed in all of it was the derisive laughter that just made him want to make it stop forever, even if it meant he had to freak out and tear the source apart like he had with Carmen. He was on the edge of that freaking anyway.

Somewhere in all this there was a hint of revenge. Oh he was in on that, for sure because it might make the some of the guilt go away. And what was this stuff about totem introductions? Something about Tucker suppose to carve a totem pole or something? Well maybe if he was introducing himself to some totem, he'd shut the fuck up. Though he was still confused, that part about fog and stuff. What did the weather have to do with anything? And how the hell did you meet fog, if you waved, wouldn't it disapate?

One thing was for sure, he wasn't wasting any time in heading for the door. Just vaguely remembering something about walking exactly where I walk.

Posted by james at September 10, 2003 12:00 AM

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