January 02, 2004.01.02.03. - resilient garou [meeting: city garou] *sd[forum - resultant meeting continued from previous scene, to start .01.02.03.]
(james)
the station on West End and 54th
it's not exactly a popular place - but that's the entirety of its charm
years ago the city restoration project abandoned this particular station
it was not deemed necessary to the further success of the Transit Authority
since, the station has remained lady in waiting to the demolition crews that will enhance it to a useful addition within Chicago's ever-changing construct.... someday.... when the funds magically re-appearamazing, the little tidbits of information one can find in items and records "borrowed" from the public library
Gaia bless his Frankenweiler mentors for instilling a bookworm within the Full Moonthe situation suits James just fine
over the Totemphone, Blood Eagle agreed to a meeting
but he left the location up to the Ahroun's studious research
given his knowledge of the city's resident Garou
a gathering at some abandoned Skid Row crackhouse would even draw unwanted attention
not to mention it would be best to avoid any places which the banes of poverty and dispair already inhabit
so in true Gnawer style - James went undergroundanyone coming that would protest such a scenic locale could bite him
at the entrance, deep umber eyes strafe across the landscape
peering out of the frame created by dreadlocks tied back beneath faded grey bandana
pausing on the waxing gibbous beginning to creep above the nearby skyline
(at least Luna isn't rising pregnant in the sky, Jamey-boy)
then dropping to the empty warehouses and "closed for the holiday weekend" shops ignorant of nighttime travelers
the neighborhood struggled hard enough during the day
whatever happened after dark was, deliberately, none of its concerna shoulder, padded by the tattered patchwork trench and layers of winter warms, leverages against a sheet of plywood
shoving it aside to expand the truant crack into a make-shift entrance
eyeballed judgement deciding it enough for even Sputnik's bearish figure to squeeze through
butterfly knife swirls and catches the remnant reflections of a nearby, dimming streetlamp
tip of the blade digs into the slanted plywood - creating a rough pattern of boxed slashes next to another, smaller, pictograph
the resilient garou and eagle glyphs carved amongst existing graffiti and other scratch in make-shift signyes folks, this is the place!
inside, boots thunk a muted cadence down the station's forgotten stairs
crackling an errant leaf or withered bit of trash
Zippo CLACKfwps to life and keeps him from reaching the bottom on his ass
tiny lantern held above his head for the remaining journey: taking the Ahroun safely past payment kiosks and counting turnstiles, into the empty and disheveled cavern of the station long void of any life save a shelter-seeking transient
luckily, none of which were sleeping in any corner that he could smell
(unfortunately, he could smell their lack of making it to the - probably out of order anyway - bathroom)and it's DAMN cold down here
even without the outside wind's help
the temperature of subterranean air feels lower than what he just left
the meager light between his fingers does nothing but tease the prospect of comfort and warmthhe chooses to avoid a curious spike in energy, regardless of whether or not the lights still work
thus: the top of a metal trashcan is pried off, mooooostly empty (....erk) bag replaced into another recepticle
waiting innards filled with old newspapers and scraps of plywood broken to fit the job
battered bronze Zippo closed after the tinders spring to firey life
.... and... a Camel sparked so not to waste the flamage
(waste not, want not, Momma Ruggs always used to say)
growing warmth from the trashcan reflecting off glass faces of empty display cases
a pile of haphazard tinder created several feet away
later it will seem like nothing more than a derelict struggle to keep warm in the freezing night
James moves to make sure the place is empty as expecteddrafts from the subway tunnels carry smoke down the passages instead of towards the stairs
(they'll be long gone before it travels far enough to be noticed and investigated)
current residents are nothing more than rats or insects scurrying away from the growing light
(it's empty, hollow, here, even the Ahroun can tell there are no lingering, eavesdropping.... things....)
the exits are either boarded for defense, or, if still open, easily guarded by vigilant Garou
(this is neutral territory, yet he is still wary of chance ambush, and needed the means to otherwise escape)
the station platform provides ample space for packs and others to gather and hold their ground
(benches, stairsteps, walls to broodingly lean against with easy elbow room....)
and they are far enough from the street, behind winding steps and halls, to keep their words from strayingsatisfied, James drags another trashcan to create twin sources of light and warmth ten feet apart
yet he does not ignite the tinder piled within, not yet, just in case
then lanky, six foot two frame folds into the oblique shadows at the base of the station's back wall
legs stretching as ankles cross and dreads pillow his skull against the stone
appearing nothing more than a raggedy-man waiting out the night - instead of Gaia's Warrior readying for the coming battle((OOC nitty gritty:
I guessed on the station's locale... sorry if it's not in the part if town described, heh. Creative license, dammit! Or... blame Lessa! She gave me the street names! Ha!
Any Garou that had a means of finding out about it via Barking Chain or subsequent word of mouth may now be considered invited/informed. Kinfolk? It's up to you and/or your informant of whether or not you'd be invited or have something useful to offer the Rage Brigade. No expectations or requirements of those who attend. Entire packs, single representatives, lone Garou, Kinfolk... s'all good. It's voluntary participation after all.
Scene will be "open" until Friday, Jan 9th, midnight chat time. Plenty of time to get things covered, even for those of us that aren't online daily... damn RL. Play on, folks!))
(smokey)
No dramatic brooding entrance, he just enters and waits. Incase he has to wait to long, he even brought a bag full of paint. But other then that, he just waits for now.(kemp)
Kemp got word of mouth from James and so here he was. Wrapped up tightly against the cold in hat, coat, gloves and scarf. Cap pulled down so low that his brows were hidden and little more than green eyes showed, reflecting the light of the barrel fire when approaching. A single lift of his chin in greeting to James and the other guy there, Smokey. Then he was hunkering down close to the barrel to ward off the cold down here. Waiting.(jim)
Jim clambered down the steps with a grace not often seen in a street bum. came from years of traveling by rooftop to avoid street gangs before his first change. He had left a message for the rest of The Quick at their communal den to join him if they were so inclined but he wasn't sure which would be interested in meeting with a bunch of gnawers and who ever the bum dragged in. He made his way through the refuse and remains of civilization left behind when this place closed up. he held a stick wrapped in an oily rag that he lit with an Aim n' Flame lighter he kept in his jacket pocket. He sniffed and immediately wished he hadn't. he looked down as a squelching sound as he realized he stepped on the remains of a dead diseased rat. he shook his head "Return teh grandmother rat, yeh poor soul. next time come back as a squirell." he looked up and a good ways down the tunnel he saw a flicker of light and made his way there holding the makeshift torch aloft. after he got where the others were gathered he nodded with a gruff growling "'Sup." He recognized James and the black gnawer who had shot him. he didn't hold a grudge about that. hell he'd have shot him back had they not realized they were both gnawers. The other one he didn't recognize but something about him said he had an invitation cuz he didn't seem gnawerish. he recieved a cautious look and a nod before jim turned his attention back to james and Smokey "Okay, So who else's comin teh this shin dig?" He says as he shove his torch flame down into the already lit fire barrel adding to the warmth.(cliona)
The opening is even big enough for Sputnik to enter, and thus is no problem for the deceptively slight figure that slips through it now. The invitation through James to Sputnik to Danah to Cliona (to James and Crystal too) find her going underground with the Gnawers. It's not the first time she's done so, though it's not something she speaks of often, the pretty Irish lass more suited for a Pub then an abandoned subway station. Somehow, she seems at home, more the diamond in the rough then someone distinctly out of place in the stench and filth and the flickering light of the fire in an oildrum.Two-tone hair- natural red atop, the bottom 4-6 inches looking something like a black dye job growing out, or simply a half dye job period - is pushed back over her shoulders, held from her face by knit cap. Batter backpack is slung over her shoulder, warm coat zipped over camoflage tanktop and pants that are tucked into well-worn boots.
There's a glance around at those who are here. James, Kemp, Jim and she can't help the slow grin to see Smokey, a brow lifted slightly in amused hello before she moves toward the oildrum to warm her hands. Voice low, accent thick, barely Americanized in her 2 years stateside. "Slainte, all." offered in way of voiced greeting.
(james wagner)
(Damn, that name was getting popular..) James Wagner, the Sandman got the message from his beta, and decided it was worth a look. He had best get chummy with the rest of the Garou populas in Chicago anyway. So there he was, making his way down into the little party.When he got there he noticed Cliona over there and gave a little nod to his kinswoman, wondering idly if the rest of his little ragtag band is going to show up. The Fianna wore an old pair of faded jeans and a Static-X hoody and his typical black Oakleys beanie, not really saying much to any but nodding his greeting to those that met his gaze.
(sputnik)
It is not long before the presence of the big Russian 'Gnawer fills the subway station, carefully, guided steps taking to hide his trail and that of the two women that followed along with him. They were tribe and his kinfolk. He would not exclude them from this meeting. Una, the young blond teenager paced by Sputnik's side easily, an invigorating bounce to the young girl's steps, dressed for the warmth of the weather in heavy denim, flannel and jeans. Yuliya, the dark haired Russian bitch, joined them as well. Quiet and narrow eyed with a chilly stare, there's a reason they call her Siberia.Thick cords of black-grey dreadlocks were pulled back from his face, beard trimmed more closely to the line of his jaw. He gives James of the Eagles, a curt nod up, Eagle's style. "Pleasant weather, vhe are having, American brother-rhya." a deep chuckle rumbles in garbled tones from his chest, thick accent poured over broken English.
He finds himself a place to perch, letting his kinfolk women do as they please for now.
Una looks around with big green eyes, plopping down on the floor near Sputnik and pulls out her CD player and music to listen to godawful JPOP.
(james wagner)
It appears he wasn't wrong when the big Ruskie made his entrance, of which the Sandman gave a little nod to him, and went back to watching, waiting and listening.(yuliya)
Siberia indeed.She'd cancelled some less important things for this. Family is everything to some, like her. Without loyalty of some form, all you had left was suspicion and violence. Ever present heavy leather jacket, gloves, dark hair in wild abandon around calmly cold face as she followed along. Her dark eyes take in those gathered as they arrived, before drawing up to someplace around the edge... the better to watch, for now... the soft scent of gunpowder and cigarettes on her. For once not smoking like s chimney, yet. Leave that pleasure for when it got really dull or really stressful... or she just wanted to piss someone off.
(yu gan)
There is a moment where the shadows seem to deepen a little then return to their former shade. The Alpha of the Quick steps forth from the umbra in the darkness. Still cloaked in the gift that allows him to go unseen he looks over the amassed garou. Scents the air and shakes his head gently. Moving with stealth he joins Jim, his packmate and then slowly lets the gift slip off.Reveiled is Yu Gan, Uktena and Alpha of his pack that prides themselves on thier minds over their brawn. He nods to his pack mate and stands in silence among the people here. He was known to be exceedingly quiet outside his pack or if not on a track. This proved to be no different. Standing there in the hiking boots, black BDUs under the custom Aztec designed leather jacket he waits for the people to get started. Matching scents to those around him and their current apperances. The large Asian man stands in gloom. Vigilant and representing with Jim, The Quick.
(jim)
Jim nods as his alpha arrives and looks over the rag tag group assembling. nodding to those he knows or those obviously of his tribe namely sputnik. He pokes the fire with the stick part of the torch still untouched by flames then holds his fingerless glove adorned hands over the fire and sniffs. It was cold but he'd lived through colder maybe he could help it out a little. with the stirring of the fire the air around begins to warm (rite of the cardboard palace) slightly at first but it's becoming tolerable.(danah)
Danah arrived late. She muttered quietly underbreath how the underground seemed colder than outside, a feat she didn't think was quite possible. Pulling her faux-fur coat closer to her body, she continued the descent, following the soft orange glow of a trash-can fire in the distance. The clacking of heavy boots announced her presence before the fires illuminated her figure. Over six feet tall, she was taller than most women -- stronger too.She paced past the barrel of fire, the light revealing olive toned skin, probably originating in central America or an island off the south-east coast of the States. Thick waves of hair spiralled down her shoulders, interupted only by a single red streak. Her hips moved with a feminine sway, but nevertheless with purpose -- there seemed a particularly feral quality to her tonight. She took up position near Sputnik, who bested her by only a few inches in height thanks to her boots. Producing a nail file from her coat, she began perfecting her homid talons while waiting for the meeting to begin.
(erik)
Tall and angular, Erik throws a sudden shadow out behind him as he comes into the place. Lexi he left behind on the surface. A lookout. A good one.He stands taller than most, around 6'3", and has the body of a marathon runner. Thin, hard, tough line tendon. The one called Blood Eagle by the most savage of tribes doesn't have the bulk one might expect. A nod up to James and Kemp, wary eyes turned on the rest. The fire's glow meets his face and reveals two of his glory scars. One, a double, thin cut from forhead, down cheek to neck. It distorts the shape of mouth and eye, but it is the other scar, a chunk missing from the other cheek and baddly healed, that disturbs even hardened eyes.
He sneers all around. The only expression he is capable of.
"Sorry 'm late." All he offers.
(nelly bell)
A very loud word of mouth, coming from one such as Smokey. It was luck, purely that they had run into him at the coffee shop upon the same night as this vicarious wolven meet. And any meet with more than one garou was worth note. Especially when called en mass by the BeeGees. Leave it to them to start the fire under everyones' asses. She'd have to remember to thank him later.Abandoned station. Funny.... she seemed to find that the Wyld surrounding this scab was more abandoned than even this run down dump. Ironically she was uncomfortable, even for one of her tribe.
Those bedroom blues fell upon the opening and winced, glancing back over her shoulder at the towering shadow, "Suck it in sugah," giving a smile warrented on wearisome to her brother. She slipped thru, and immediatly pulled that punk red fake fur coat closer to her body. Teeth began to chatter as she waited for her companion... the second sign of ill omens, the frigid cold air.... then made way down to the underbelly of the meeting.
In the dark silouette casted from the trashcan fires upon the bottom of the stairs, even her platium blonde hair seemed to darken to a dull straw, sun tanned skin a shade reder than usual. Lips pursed into a smile as smooth as Tennessee whiskey as she headed on in, "Ah guess we as timely as eva' Butta...." that deep southern accent sprang to life, echoing off the walls along with her goldentipped cowboy boots clicking harshly upon the rubble filled concrete slab. Her own scent was pungent; seemed to muscle its way into the thickness of the decay, stale scent of the place... it waiffed around her like a shell made of dewdrop moss, deep woods pine and fresh toiled soil. Her gaze flickered, falling upon faces and relising she didn't recognize hardly any of them. Motherhood had kept her out of the loop too long, she would need to rectify that soon.
(leroy)
Though both were informed almost post-event, barely catching the invitation before the kick off commenced, LeRoy nevertheless caused them a few more moments of tardiness. It was through the mystical link between he and his packmates that he gave that invisible line a ring. ~Everyone, Something up, meeting goin on.~Flanking his little buxom blonde, sucking hard in upon his gut by her insistence, he followed her into the dark. Emerging behind she before those currently present, raising to his full height beneath the streets above them. His form easily towered over everyone present, his accompanying mass commanding each of their attention. 7'2" and over 340ibs, his black leather coat could barely keep him bound. His shaven head obscured by the black skull cap embroidered with a white unicorn hung low to his brows. His already ebony skin was now pitched darker than the flickering shadows surrounding him.
Slanted glance downwards, slowly swallowing the faces he washed his attention over. Some he knew, others not. Giving only a gutteral grumble and to Jim a quick nod up. Silent he remained, arms crossing over his chest, buldging under their leather constraints, he struck the pose of 'Ok, Im here, and Im listening'
(jim)
Jim nods to leroy and nelly as they arrive, gotta keep up the Public relations. he sniffed and rubbed his nose leaning in to whisper to his alpha in a tone too low to be heard unless actively listening and even then you gotta be listening close "Looks like this was a decent turn out, eh? might have teh use the Barkin chain more often" he glances at the others and continues playing with the fire in front of him stoking it and moving around the trash and other refuse used to bring warmth to the area around. the warmth spread further than the barrel itself would have alowed taking the edge off the cold that was deeper below ground.(sputnik)
The Metis Gnawer stood near his kinfolk, casting his dark gaze silently around at the gathering of Gaia's Children. His chest swells up a bit, prideful, that they were willing to listen and come when the call for aide had gone out. Thick black-grey dreadlocks slide across his back with his head movements. Massive arms, thickly cords of muscle flex beneath the Russian army fatigue jacket, stretching as he folds his arms over his chest.The blond teenager, Una, continues to sit on the ground, leaning back to rest up against Sputnik's thigh. She flicks her eyes over the gathering, looking up at Yuliya to take directions of etiquette from the older kin, whom she secretly admired. The CD player was put away, headphones gathered around Una's neck. Squaring off her shoulders to look tougher, despite her petite frame. She notices Danah coming over to stand with them and can't help but smirk at the wily Glass Walker.... Danah was just soooo cool.
"Vhelcome... Ist good you all can gather in short notice. Hopefully, this is not all of us and we'll see more of our brethern." he speaks up in the thick garbled bass of broken English. At 6'4, he stood out amongst many of the men gathering. LeRoy was the next one that outdid Sputnik by muscle bulk and height.
(james wagner)
James Wagner made his way to the oildrum and warmed hands by the fire, nudging Cliona teasingly. Rubbing his hands together, the Sandman looked toward those entering late with a nod, and as Sputnik began speaking he looked toward his comrade and nodded. "It brings a smile to me face to see so many o' us in one place. I dinna expect some so big, though. Counts as two people." Chuckling, the Fianna smiled and folded his arms over his chest.Dwarfed certainly by Sputnik and probably the other, he was only 6', 6'1". Then again, it wasn't how big you were. It was how good you could kick the shit out of something. Breath misting before his nostrals, he waited for this shindig to kick off.
(cliona)
Cliona arches a brow at James, and with a grin nudges him back. If the Sandman feels dwarfed, imagine how the slight Fianna lass feels. 5'7" maybe. if she stretches a bit. And she doesn't wear heels... as such, her entire pack overshadows her slender frame - even Crystal! But as James says - it's not about how big you are, but how well you do, and the little Irish girl is quite good at what she does.She's silent still, though she takes the time to smile at Sputnik, and his bitches, as well as to Danah. Kemp receives a warm smile. She'll have to ask him how the sneaking into the warehouse is going after the meeting. Idle thoughts, as she to awaits whomever called the meeting officially, to speak up and get the ball rolling.
(yuliya)
She may not be the best one to get etiquette from, if Una was looking for he kinfolk behavioral standard. Yulya had yet to follow one herself. She did manage to be both steady and cool in amongst so many gathering Garou though. Not terribly displaced from Sputnik and Una's position, keeping more a watchful eye on things then not for the moment. They had hsit to talk about and until she felt the need to give them her two cents, she'd be watching. There was bad shit going down afterall... It'd be just their luck shit went down there. Shifting some, the comforting weight of her personal toys eased and settled, available quickly if needed, away for now, and looked at Danah who moved closer to them and the few she already knew. She actually tossed James the 'sup' nod, though few else got that. Him she liked. Then back to watching. She was at least glad she wouldn't be kneeing Una to turn off that screeching Jpop... it was still amusing to watch Misha rant and rave when it went on at the apartment, and Yulya had her earplugs in.... he's so fun to bait.(erik)
Right, we all got time to stand around here and pick our asses. Someone called this meeting. Whoever that is should speak the fuck up."Hey. What say we get dis shit on da road?"
Erik's voice (gravel) fills the space with a low rumble. Seems he wants to get the meeting underway...
(jim)
Jim crossed his arms and surveyed the group. he was shorter than most gathered standing 5'10 or so. he was broad shouldered and hunched his shoulders a bit, readjusting the strap of his gym bag on his shoulder standing to the side of Yu Gan his alpha. His face was covered in a danse beard though it looked recently trimmed. his wild matted hair was now clean and in some sembalance of order tucked under a filthy stained baseball cap. his face held a gruff stern expression. large gatherings like this were great but you gotta watch your step or you might get your leg bitten off... even if you're garou. He looked up from the fire and took in the sight of the new arrivals and nodded to those he recognized. he pulls his jacket a bit closer about himself then with a cough speaks. "I'm not the guy who called this meet but i say we start getting on the ball and figure out what teh do bout th' damn caern and all that other shit that's been plaguin' this city. We need teh get some open communication tween packs." he glances at Yu then James the Gnawer and bowed his head a bit showing a little submission to signify he wasn't trying to overstep any bounds.(kemp)
Smaller and quite possibly younger than most that came in, infact some made him feel like a midget at 5'6" and 15 years old, though he had years of growing to do if he lived that long. Hunkered down, nearly out of sight with the growing crowd. The biggest thing on Kemp was his mouth, in that department he was a giant. Lifting his chin to Erik in greeting when the Alpha entered. Then a wiggle of his brows and a wink for each Cliona and Danah. Most everyone else, other than his pack were strangers to him. For now he'd just listen to whatever they had to say and grumble inwardly at the cold that made all the females wear so much clothing. Talk about lack of entertainment, he couldn't even stare at boobs with all the coats!(yu gan)
Yu Gan nods to Jims words. Known to be the quiet one among them out side of his own he lets the gnawer put to word that which was to be done. He shifts down then. The fire light adding shadows and a touch of flickering concealment to the action. Sitting in lupus he ruffels his furr and listens. The slender long legged form of a dark Maned Wolf. Big ears swiveling like little radar dishes as the meeting starts off.
His dark eyes take in the assembeled and more than once he can be seen scenting the air.(sputnik)
A garbled sound rumbles in his throat, clearing it loudly to gather attention. The Russian bear steps away from his gathering to look around at those here."Getting shit started. Sputnik, among many of you, have felt the problems ravishing city. We have Wyrm taint spawned from just beyond the river front, rumors of black spiral dancer activity had flown around many mouths to even touch my ears. Has anyone received any concrete proof upon this information??
Secondly, the Caern Spirit, Whispers, is dying. If it hasn't already... the pain that ebbs from creature is a terrible sensation. It's very much vhrithing in death bed. There's something else that is awakening and the bane tender vhas brought to deal with. Has this been done?? If any garou has vhitness this atrocity upon the caern spirit they vhould know vhat Sputnik speak of. Plans are needed to be devised to stop situation and bring peace to already growing rippled in pond. Before tsunami hit all of us and wipe us all and our kinfolk out of this place. Vhe need to take action and it should have been done last -- as you american say -- Yesterday."
The broken English spoke out in strong tones, heavily flavored by the Russian accent of Misha. Erik wanted to get to the point of the matter. Well, there it was laid out flat upon the table, nothing order or commanded in the Metis Gnawer's voice, just reciting information the way he saw it. Fuck any one who's social dick got stroked the wrong way and didn't like the non-proper protocol in the way Sputnik had spoken out so blatantly.
(decker)
Never quite unobtrusive [the rage: feel the burn.], Decker's nonetheless a largely silent presence tonight.Amidst the standing and the towering, the Modi's on the dusty floor, back to a plywood-sheeted wall. His knees are drawn up inside thick baggy denims; his elbows balance atop them, hands fiddling idly with his switchblade knife, closed.
A zip-up sweatshirt which was black once upon a time, and is now closer to charcoal grey, tops off the outfit. Ghetto chic. Or not. And as for his overcoat - black L.A. Raiders jacket, its insignia dating it back at least ten years - he's sitting on it. Loose-jointed, but not relaxed. Silent, but never quite still.
The source of his menace is not something you can put your finger on.
His head turns slightly as he looks from one speaker to another. Down on the floor or not, his rank, renown and brute fuckin' strength gives him the right to stare them in the eye. In the dim lighting his eyes glimmer faintly, grey as hard as steel. And with Sputnik's questions for concrete proof, they fall expectantly on the Quick.
(smokey)
When will you rage?! Right after I cap your catch phrase spitting ass. Yeah, Smokey wasn't much for words. Which might seem strange for a galliard, but an artist dosn't have to be a poet. When Erik says the caller of the meeting might need to speak up, he stands. Sputnick says some shit he barely understood, then he says his peice. Well here goes nothing."Aight, so, like the Cosmonaut over there said shit is out of hand. I don't know about the spirit dying and all that. Wasn't on that team. But as tall dark and norse over there can testify..." He nods to Decker "That aint the only problem. If something is waking up in the Caern, its brought freinds. Cause we fought Banes inside a fucking Spawning Pit INSIDE the fucking Caern. Now I don't know what you locals been doing fore I get here, but god damn whatthefuck? We got the startings of a Hive already and we are just now starting to act? I just want to say, it may be to late. I'm like the rest of ya'll and hope it aint, but I a fucking realist and shit don't look good. If we can't figer out some big master plan to make it right, I suggest we don't rule out cutting our looses and destroying the caern ourselves before it falls to the Wyrm. Oh yeah, and this is officaly a gnawer meeting, so the motto of 'Fuck Manners' is in full effects for all you picky muthafuckas. So if you think you see an excuse to get your panties in bind, let me say before we get to deep in dis, just drop it. We aint got time for that kina shit right now."
(erik)
Erik stands, paces, roves with only his eyes. He feels Decker's simmer, comforting. He hears true words, now. Words that call for action... But he didn't think it would be this bad. Whether through strong wyrm presence or weak garou does not matter. The Mother's Pain is the only thing that matters."I wanna see dis Caern... An' I wanna see the wyrm lair."
Blue eyes blaze, two cold infernos. Fanatic.
(faith grimshaw)
"Fine with me." A Southern-tinged accent, too long separated from home to be a full-fledged accent, rings out from the stairs leading to the up-side. Faith "Forget-Me-Not" Grimshaw, likely unrecognized by all but her packmates, descends the rest of the stairwell. Moving to stand closer to the fire, the light casting shadows over her pale face, she nods to who had been speaking - Smokey. Coppery red locks fall in frazzled (damn cold weather) strands to her shoulders, hovering over her heart-shaped face, though spring green eyes are steady as they look over the assembled. A heavy brown overcoat, patched with slightly-off colors at the elbows and along the hem, covers her lean figure, though the cuffs of faded, ragged blue jeans extend from beneath the bulky garment. "Cause you're damn right - we got not time for fucking around with anything besides what we're gonna do." Hell, her father was a Gnawer, and she was raised as one - very simply, and very poor - and after the Change, she was looked after by the best damned Bone Gnawer (hell, best Garou, period) that ever walked the planet. In her eyes, anyway.So like she's gonna complain about a meeting done Gnawer-style. She was actually surprised at how elegantly the locale was chosen. Initially, LeRoy's call out had been a huge surprise, but the Gaian wasted no time in getting her ass in a coat and then busting it to get down here ASAP. This is what she'd been bitching about a while back - getting everybody together, and throwing together a plan. Any plan. Just... something. That moment on the balcony had been the last straw - she had a bad feeling about the fate of the Caern, and wasn't sure anything anybody did could swing the balance.
But they had to try...
Her breath fogs, a little heavy from jogging the last of the distance to the station, and her eyes fix on LeRoy and Nelly - as if asking, silently, as to the whereabouts of ol' Alpha and Omega. Inwardly, she just hoped she wouldn't get stuck in the representative spotlight for the Knights. Most of these Garou didn't even know who the hell she was. An unfortunate fact that she wished there was time to rectify, but things never seemed to settle. War is hell and all that.
(decker)
His eyes shift to Erik, ever so briefly.In that spark of contact, a flood of images played at fast-forward. The school, which served as bawn. The umbralside, with its deformed rat-spirits. The basement of the school. The boiler room and the cavernous, bane-infested lair beyond it where he and others had slain and purified, and then been able to go no further as their way was blocked.
-switch-
A day on the Riverfront. A strange man reeking of what might have been taint, if his senses had been sharper. But he had been in homid, and so had the other; and the other had passed.
--all this, in the silent communication between packmates.
"James saw the Caern's Heart," he adds aloud. "'N the Quick did some recon on the place near the Riverfront."
(sputnik)
"The caern's heart isn't pretty. And if it starts to become breeding ground for a hive. Sputnik is in agreeance of destroying present caern. We may not have a choice in the end and should be used as last resort. Sputnik good with make things go boom."It would kill him inside to have to destroy the caern, but the twisted inner workings of his mind thinks that blowing it up might be the best recourse of action. Silently, the plotting begins on what type of kitchen chemicals he could get on hand in case the need arise. Spirits wouldn't be happy about it, probably gain plently of notoriety, but he was crazy enough to take that chance.... if no one else was.
(erik)
Erik falls silent. His eyes narrow at the images Decker barrages him with. That is bad. And he stays silent, only nodding, as the Rusky puts forth a plan of destruction. He does think of one thing to say... "I aint so bad make things go boom, either."(decker)
Decker doesn't like the plan of destruction much. There's a loud snort from the Modi."Best y'all keep in mind that's the last fuckin' resort. 'M here to talk war, not tailtuckin' retreat."
(james)
the Ahroun watches as the others arrive
quietly tucked away against the wall
warm in the bubble created by layers of clothes, dreadlocks, and the slowly increasing heat of the firebins
chin lifting in turn to each new Garou (and kin) that step into the makeshift symposium
there is a certain element of curiosity as to whom would choose to answer the call
much less figuring out those that had the connections to hear about it"Hopef'lly? Ev'ryone." Empire State accent and battlescar slur first offered to Jim, then his attention turns to Sputnik "Yeh.... leas' it'll warm up'n here fas'."
it's an acknowledgement of Jim's efforts to warm the place
the Fostern watches how the other goes through the motions, carefully
ascertaining the various other methods for the 'Palace Rite
each Garou has their own way of ensuring warmth for themselves or others: never hurts to learn
and a smile spreads (lopsided) to feel the interior temperature steadily rise
in keeping the pack warehouse liveable, performing the Rite here is one preparation James could not makeKemp, Blood Eagle and Decker - nod up - his own pack has arrived
and as the last steadily trickle in (whoops, should've made that entrace big enough for LeRoy...), the Gnawer extracts another Camel from his pack
Zippo once again attending to sparking the cancerous stick to life
that's when the others begin to speak
deep umber eyes watching each in turn through the curtain of exhaled smokethere's no look of placement shot towards Jim
the Cliath has a point, after all, and far be it from any Gnawer to discourage another stepping up validly
which would be the reason Sputnik's choice of phrasing is also not reprimanded
and he stifles a chuckle at Smokey's laying out the digsat the talk of destruction - the raggedyman chooses to finally stand
"'m James Brans'n, Fos'ern BeeGee Full Moon a Eagles." dreads scrape over his shoulders in a nod towards his packmates, then towards the younger, spitfire Gnawer "Smokey made note a meetin' w's ne'ssary, 'n' I'm th' one that made th' call though th' Chain a bring yeh here. Thank' f'r makin' the effort a show."
a pause while he gathers his thoughts
it brings him to stand beside one of the fire-bins
ashes from the smoke flicked into the licking flames
light casting strange shadows on his features and dreads
it makes him look far more imposing than the mellow Garou normally is
however in light of the present situation - maybe it's warranted
if nothing else, the street performer in him knows how to speak before a group
catching up the new faces as well as filling the others in"Wh'n Eagles, Knights, 'n oth'rs went to th' Caern coupla week ago... we fought banes'n oth'r nasties with'n its walls. Sputnik 'n I saw th' heart, felt Whisper's pain 'n saw her bein' eaten alive by this... we gave up som've our spirit to try 'n help her hol' on a little longer.--
Totemphone: As he speaks, James sends the images and impressions to his packmates - Blood Eagle especially. They reinforce what Decker had provided: deformed spirit-rats, the deceptive illusions, the horrible stench and vibe of the place. The caern's very totem spirit weak and whimpering though at the very same time keening it's unrelenting pain. The altercation between himself and Smashing Machine over abandoning their mission a minor detail. He still harbors resentment at the supposed Alpha's choice to run to battle before completing their task with the spirit. Such impressions are dark and distasteful... only a premonition to the underlying feeling that's been growing among the city's Garou in the past week. Yet, at the end, there is a small ray of hope: a brightening within the gloom as he shares his witness of the spirit's reaction to his and Sputnik's sacrifice, how for but a moment it seemed to sigh in relief for their temporary gift of strength.
-- Maneat'rs w're runnin' loose in th' city. Now there' talk a Spirals takin' over where they lef' off. Not a single one've us c'n say we haven' felt th' wicked mojo risin', eith'r. May be too late like Smokey said - but my pack dun' trek here fr'm Jersey t' kill a Caern 'fore the Wyrm does 'n put it out've it's mis'ry 'less a mercy killin' is the only vi'ble choice." another pause, this time the all but filtered cigarette is flicked into the fire's hunger, seems he agrees with the Modi's opinion on backing down from the threat and taking that way out "Eagles 'r a war pack, we'll fight whatev'r we face 'n do whatev'r it take' to ensure Mother live long'r'n we do. Knights. Know s'm've you c'n fight.... what else yeh got t'offer? Wh't The'rges 'r available oth'r 'n Sputnik t' focus spiritside? Oth'r packs 'n lone Garou... who are yeh 'n what've yeh got t' share?"
deep umber eyes, the color of Gaia's richest and purest soil, make contact with all of those gathered
"We need a know wh't th' Quick foun' on recon... fig're how we gotta split 'r resources 'n where. All've us know th' probl'm. All've us agree on it, 'n that som'thin' needs a be done. Now quit dickin' aroun' an' tell me wh't we got a work with."
((no kidding this is becoming a popular name... after THREE sites this is the first that's had another "James" - much less two... damn y'all! *LOL* And I swear my later posts will be shorter! Geesh. Making up for the lag. Heh. Sorry about that... got drug to Disneyland over the weekend as a surprise graduation present.))
(cliona)
Cliona listens as they begin to give their stories, as they all put their finger on what they know, though reddish brow quirks upwards with the suggestions of destroying the Caern before there is even discussion on saving it.Last. Resort. Only.
A moment pauses as she views the raggedy gnawer evenly. before her voice rises to add her thoughts on the matter. Having been silent since a brief hello at the beginning, it is almost jarring the switch from Albany slang slurred to all but intelligable mess to the Irish lilt barely Americanized.
"Cliona 'ricinus' Murran, Irish Spirit-talkin youngin, if'n th'name weren't enough t'give it away." There's a flash of a grin for her packmates, before she continues. "First th'feelin woke me, I called t'what'ere spirits would answer. Only th'weaker willed came t'm'call, and were skared near speachless. Garbled, th'were, but the fear o'th'rollin fire down by th'river was first, impress'ns o'stronger wills allignin themselves with'th'enemy, co'ercin th'weaker t'join as well."
A pause, gathering her thoughts, before. "Th'actions o'James here, an m'friend Sputnik, may 'ave lifted Whispers a moment, tho I'm left t'assume none else offered support?" Slightly incredulous that. They had split ranks - surely there were more then just the two who should have offered. But she continues with a shake of her head. "M'suggestion would be t'split ranks ag'in. Ourselves, we'be a big nuff group t'ave a considerable amounta strength if'n we do so.... Th'Spirittalkers - M'self, Sputnik, any others need t'see t'the Caern. A band t'protect us whilst we try t'elp. Others - the warriors, t'find n'stop what's 'appenin a'th'River."
"Th'unrest is dual in nature. Th'battle willna be any different as far as I kin see."
Another pause, and a glance at her Alpha, before finishing up.
"I dinna see th'sittin around 'as done anyone any good. S'time t'stop it. Time and place, I'll b'there wit'my brothahs t'do m'best t'see it done."
A shrug, slight, and she falls silent, gaze dropping to her hands, warming them once more by the fire.
(jim)
Jim nods as each person who speaks tosses in their two cents "Well on my side, i'm fair nuff in a fight and decent on sneakin', I'm Jim Larson Full moon claith o' th' Quick. We're better at strategy'n all out berserkin' Also i'm pretty good with the ear teh the ground kin'a shit. Muh Alpha is a Tracker so that's where that liues. pretty solid on recon." he gives a nod to the lupus form of Yu Gan. He looks back. "Also if things get down teh it i'm fairly decent bout comin up with ways teh as the big ruskie said, Make things go boom, I hope to Gaia we don't gotta go tha' far."He glances around and continues to stoke the fire making sure it keeps burning long enough and strong enough to keep things fairly comfortable.
(decker)
Most of the long speeches go over his head half-heard. His attention zeroes in on Sputnik, the only Theurge known to him."Gnawer, hell're y'all settin' out to do at the Caern's Heart, anyhow? You tell us, how much backup is y'all gonna need?"
(james wagner)
James the Sandman nodded slightly to Cliona when she nodded to him, his beta only doing her job. She was Theurge, he a Galliard. Spirit talking was her forte, so she and Sputnik know what they're talking about. He just played his little guitar and sang his little songs.He gradually became very grim-faced, as if the idea of a Hive nesting in the caern made him want to sick up. His face twisting in a little bit of rage, not Rage, he began speaking when everyone fell silent.
Where they were, he might s'well speak clearly. Formality was good, and so was informality. His titles and station however he never took informally. His semi-thick Irish tongue rolled, as he spoke: "I'm James Wagner, Clan Fianna. Fostern Galliard." His tribe he always thought of as a clan, as per celtic influences.
"I have no been in the city long enough to know much about what's been goin' on, but I'll tell ye this: Whatever'n the hell's happening, it gotta be stopped. Yeah, wrecking the caern to Hell is gonna be the last resort. Can't see what'll be good about charging in head-on. Suicide, methinks. I wanna see the caern, too, before I decide on what me and m'pack'll do, but whatever we all decide, we're with ye.
"What Cliona do be sayin, I agree with. Theurges with some fighters go to try to play fuck-all with the caern, while the other warriors go to kick the shit out of the shit on the river. Dinna see no sign of any Black Spiral Dancers, but from what I can see from us assembled, I do be hope'n we can handle whatever comes. In fact, we gotta. Otherwise we're fucked."
Until he sees the caern for himself, he's gonna wanna hear what he may be up against sneaking a peak. "We ain't got no choice. Take care of it now, and be done with it."
He went quiet again, and slid his hands into the pocket on the front of his hoody.
(yuliya)
She watched Sputnik as he gives out the start and all goes from there. She and Una aren't exactly needed for this... wlel perhaps not, perhaps so... if they needed anything, Siberia might be a good chance at having it already or finding it faster then usual. Misha knew this, and she wasn't much for stepping in their meet and gret to toss it out there. One hand brushing her hair from her face and she started rooting through her jacket for her cigarettes, glimpses given a bit off weapons carried. She didn't really think she'd be pulling out here, unless all this wyrm stuff decided it'd be nice to drop by the meeting too...But this was a Gnawer's meeting and she was a loyal, if caustic, member.
"You need shit... you talk Misha or me... I may get, or have."
Her cold accented English cutting into the midst some. She didn't really care if anyone heard or not. If they were smart, they heard. Kinfolk she may be, but she never let that hold her down before. Not about to start now. Holding the pack in Misha and Una's direction seeing if they wanted a smoke, as she lit hers and then looked back around some. God, more nicotine was needed for all this Rage.
(sputnik)
The burly Russian bear turns his attentions upon the Fostern Modi, leveling his eyes in a non-challenging way upon the shorter man."We will need every able body theurge at the caern's heart to deal with the spirits. We will need this bane tender that has been brought down to help. Has any one bothered to consult this individual?? And, Sputnik would request a few warriors, doesn't have to be a pack to protect the theurge from whatever might attack us. We may not be able to defend ourselves if we are caught up on ritual. Sputnik not care what auspice, every garou knows how to fight... And I wager someone might see a battle.. For the more blood-thirsty glory hounds. Sputnik no suggest protecting caern heart, you may not see battle at all and therefore, see no blood spilled."
He tilts his head, looking down at Yuliya for a moment with a curt nod before he turns to address the rest of the group.
"Sputnik also put out another request.... Send the kinfolk to some place safe. Do not feel it safe to keep them anywhere near riverfront or school when shit starts to fly."A soft groan spills the teenager's mouth, rolling up her eyes Una keeps a tight lid on her words.
(faith)
Faith folds her arms over her chest, listening to the topics fly; all of them want action. Some of them seem all set up to give up and blow the Caern. Some are trying to assemble a plan... so she throws her lot in with the latter group."I am a Theurge." She answer's Branson's question, turning her eyes from the fire to regard him, inclining her head slightly. "Faith Grimshaw, Child of Gaia, Cliath Theurge, and pack Beta of the Knights." Then she looks to Sputnik, pausing a second for thought. "I believe one of my packmates is working with the Bane Tender. I have not seen her for some time, now, though." Which had her worried, but not exactly surprised. After the sparks went flying that night, she doubted Frankie would be with the pack much longer. Frustrating topic, that. "I can find her, though, and see if I can make contact with the Tender. I'm afraid all I know of the Caern is what has been passed around by word-of-mouth. The last given duty of the Knights was to protect the Caern's surroundings, which we've done as well as we can." Banes... Fomori... Maneaters... all in a day's work. Mmph. The shit never stopped. "But that's not an excuse. The Caern needs help, and we'll put forth everything we can to save it. I'll join you and the rest of the Spirit-talkers at the heart."
Addressing the rest of the room now, she flits her glance over to LeRoy and Nell - the only ones in this room that kept her from feeling totally on her own. "If we can fix the problem Umbral-side, then we can help the physical aspect - the Caern. I'm not sure what we'll be able to do, but it might be our best shot." Her small contribution offered, she then quieted. Looking over to her packmates, she communicated silently with them for a moment. I'd like you both there with me. Phrased as a request, with the indication that she had her reasons.
(decker)
After Sputnik speaks, Decker looks at his packmates but doesn't say anything. The feeling that they're communicating nonetheless, however, is quite clear.Caern 'r outside? Don't fuckin wanna babysit Theurges. But last time I set Mark Gaines babysittin, he tried to abandon post.
(erik)
"We'll go t' th' Caern." Like he said before, he wants to see it.(decker)
t's eerie the way the Eagles make eye contact, decide on something with neither gesture nor word, and turn away simultaneously.
It's eerie the way they sometimes speak one after another with neither plan nor synchronization."Ya pro'lly wantcher pack with ya at the Caern's heart," Decker says to Faith. Of the gathered, the Fenrir's probably the only one who hasn't given a full introduction. He hates that sorta thing. "But yer Alpha's a fighter, 'n last time I set 'im watchin' a Caern, he was rarin' ta join the battle. Let'im take the front with the rest o' yer pack. Lead the offense 'r some such shit."
A sniff, brushing the back of his hand under his nose. He's still sitting on the ground, almost insolent.
"Rest o' y'all go where ya wanna."
(yuliya)
Sputnik's words get a low look from her and she listens to them continue. The urge grows in passing seconds to say exactly what comes to mind but the faintest measure of restraint asserts itself. You just don't air your dirty laundry in front of strangers, even if they are allies after a form...Dark eyes falling on the burly bearlike Ruskie and she near growls herself, low voiced Russian now instead of English. Whoever else knew the language fine, it was their native tongue and her preferred.
"Fuck you Misha... if you think you can just shuttle me wherever you wish."
And with that, turns to go. Tight with anger and her usual chip on the shoulder. There wasn't anything else she wanted to hear.
(yu gan)
Yu Gan listens and observes as is his way. When it comes time he stands from where he sits. putting himself on all 4s so the full body language and vocals can blend of the lupine tongue. Speaking out in the yips and growls of the wolves."The Quick will go where needed in this endevor, though I also noted that some didn't seem to be able to stay their previous cource on the previous mission. It was also noted that some seemed to think it a fun little jaunt. We don't need such sorts on the next mission. You step out of line... the ranking members will drop you where you stand... If they don't. The Ragabash will.
There are places for questions and debate. In battle or on a mission is not one of them. If you can't follow orders. Be it YOUR Alpha, or YOUR group leader, You can guard the kin while the rest of us get shit done."Once done with probably the longest speach any outside his pack have heard from the enignamic Uktena he returns to his sitting position and sniffs the air.
(mark)
"No," the simple word rumbled from a deep, low-toned bass that had a decidedly smoky sound. It flowed from the darkness of the stairwell. Those who were especially wary would have felt as much as heard the non-stealthy approach of the Ahroun. The sculpted features of his shaven head formed more and more visible as he approached from the above gloom. His obviously powerful frame of well-proportioned sinew attempted - failing miserably - to hide beneath a jingling jacket of black leather, a wool pullover, and faded denim that flexed full, then loose, with each stride. Blue eyes burned like twin embers from his handsome face set in lines of everpresent control. Luna's waxing face seemed reflected in that predatory visage. Waiting, itching, dreading, longing for the bloom to full. It was that inner fire - that cauldron - that would have been felt as the growing prickle at the back of those nearest the door's necks.He took his time after the initial utterance of negation, stalking into their midst with the occasional creak of leather and the muffled footfalls of soft-soled athletic shoes. His facetted blue eyes - reminiscent of the blue arcs of lightning known to travel down his claws and arms - met all with a small nod of greeting. Stalking to his packmates, there was a touch of one strong hand on Leroy's solid, larger shoulder, a gentler brush against Nelly's flank, and the barest touch on Faith's lower back, his eyes still looking outward, even as the Alpha greeted his pack, silently.
But then he moved beyond them, the leather creaking to protest his slow removal with the roll of his shoulders. With the press of bodies, and the stoked fires, the interior was growing more comfortable. If you could call the proximity to the raw amount of Rage comparable to a nuclear reactor comfortable...
"Good idea for the meet," he announced with a nod as his head slowly swivelled atop his tall, proud frame, giving props to the bonegnawers who called it. That said, he seemed to move right on, tanned lips moving from the hard line they had formed to speak to all with the bearing of someone used to public speaking, and voice accostumed to filling a room with it's weighty breadth,
"It would be a gross misuse of resources for the Eagles to remain in the heart," he explained brazenly with that bass that seemed to rumble along the listener's spine, and reverberate within the hollow cavities of flesh.
Blue eyes swivel like a blue beacon to the aforementioned pack. Decker, James, Erik, each in turn. "Eagles are a war pack, mostly fosterns," he explained with that slow low tone. Likely James still didn't fathom the reasons why Mark chose a tactic he was vehemently against, and with that in mind, he still wouldn't fathom the reason he chose to remain at the caern now. That earlier was a raid, this was a defensive action against a host they can all feel burgeoning. But then most had trouble following the tactical reasoning of the Glass Walkers, "The Knights have a theurge," Indicating Faith, "A spiritually able combat medic," indicating the unignorable breadth of Leroy, "And an equally able Wyld-touched," indicating Nelly, "Our packmate is the one in contact with the Bane Tender. The one that brought the Bane Tender. They need to be at the caern's heart, and I need to be watchin' over them," And by his tone, that was that, "And if this Tender don't work..." his head swiveled to take in that of the Russian Bone Gnawer.. pleased to see he wasn't the one to have to voice the alternative. He let his look finish the statement.
His hard visage was indicatory of the everpresent mastering of control over that inner fire as he addressed Erik, "You wanna see the caern. 'Course you do. So go look, and then put those Fosterns outside where they can do the most good," he finished, waiting patiently on the silent communication of the Eagles and their response.
(nelly)
She had stood, for quite some time, quiet save for the chattering of her teeth. Dwarfed greatly beside her brother (~what you don’t see the resemblance?~), her head twisted every so often far up to glance at him and then to the stairwell after Beta made her way in. To Faith, she shrugged one shoulder upon the silent query and returned her gaze to float upon all the mouths moving, and the ones that were not."Lilladandum..." single word muttered unconsciously under her breath. Between chattered teeth over the flicker of the firelight, only if you were close enough could you notice nonsentical words springing to life from her lips the entire time.
But the more the words came, the more silence fell, the more she understood. There was no Grand Elder here, no one to put everyone in their place; just a rabble of alphas and glory benders going in without a plan. The need for getting off your ass and doing something was past everyone's pain threshold, this was understandable; naturally they would reach this point. But like Momma always says, you don't take a shit without first takin' off yer britches.
She shook her head. But even her own Alpha's presence didn't sooth the worry stone growing inside her stomach, it only turned. She smiled, gently, and silently continued her vigil until his own words has ceased. They were valid, had a point; but as her eyes fell upon the faces around, she knew that right now, Mark's words were just more avenues of venture given by another Elder alpha. Others would argue, give their own, and in the end there still would be no hard plan to go by.
Bracing herself for disappointment, the tip of her tongue came to wet her lips. Images flashed in her head, voices in her mind. Stories, songs, paintings, dances, books... knowledge. A tale twisted with the movement of her inner coat pocket, a reminder; a fraction of a fiber of thought that connected every one of Gaia's chosen in a hidden unending thread of understanding. There was so much unsaid and so much missed, left out. She wanted to scream so badly her face managed to flush two shades darker. And as her lips trembled those idiosyncrasies, she waited until reactions were made before speaking her twisted head's bellows.
(decker)
That does it. Time for saving the Walker's face was over, if it had ever been at all.The Modi's on his feet in an eyeblink. If he wanted, he could probably be at the other's throat in the same instant. For all his apparent laziness, he's as fast as a striking viper.
"Yer pushin yer luck, Smashin' Machine. No fuckin shit we're best out fightin the Wyrm." A step forward, and then another, until he was eye to eye with the other Ahroun. Chin tilted up, sneering down the line of his nose, he drawls slow and deliberate: "But we don't fuckin' trust you to stand watch idly at the Caern no more."
The stare is held.
"Drums on Skulls, tell 'em whatthafuck happened last time Mark Gaines was put on Caern duty."
(james)
the commentary created on another plane between the Eagles is a strange thing, indeed
there is no outward betray of the snorted scoff following the comment about Mark
nor is there any obverse acknowledgement of their future attendance at the Caern
babysitting Theurges or not, Erik's witnessing it or not - they came to this wind-raped town for the sole purpose of fighting for it
so the decision seems logical enough for Jameshe doesn't have to understand Russian to discern a vague translation of Yuliya's bitter response
after telling his own kinsman to stay away from a particular battle
it's not that hard to figure out what set it off
but her bruised ego is ignored - there are more important matterswhatever he drew breath to respond with is cut short by... doesn't this feel familiar... Mark's timely entrance
he can't help but sport a partial smirk at the Eagle's anything but silent communication this round
originally, he wasn't going to publically include this part of the Caern mission's tale
and this shows, to both those that know him intimately and others newly met tonight
but at the request (command?) of his packmate and the ranking Ahroun..."This'll 'splain why none oth'r off'r'd support a th' spirit, Cliona." a breif glance towards her "Las' time Mark Gaines w's put'n Caern duty he w's leadin' our team to it's heart so we coul' fin' out what w's wrong 'n offer whatev'r we could a help - as order'd by th' rankin' Ahroun in charge a th' entire mission. That Ahroun's word w's law.... 'n I think ev'ryone there rememb'rs agreein' to tha' b'fore we walk' in." there's a vague gesture of one hand, identifying the Fenrir currently staring down the GlassWalker as the ranking Garou in question "Though instead've attendin' to th' dyin' spirit an' his order' - he chose a take it upon himsel' 'n break off'n rush t' battle wh'n there w's no indication we w're needed there more desp'rately th'n Whisp'r need us. None too happy when I remin' him've're task 'n did what I need a stop him 'n 'is packmate fr'm abandoning th' spirit. Now I c'n un'erstan' the exten' of a Full Moon's love a battle n glory. Sure it' jus' as 'mportant as it is t'me to fight by my own packmate's side. But tha' was'n' our mission, th' Caern w's more 'mportant, 'n ev'n though I stop'm from leavin'.... Sputnik 'n I w're still th' only ones tha' off'r ourselves a help Whisp'rs while they did nothin' more'n watch. Ev'r stop'n won'er how bad things'd be now if he 'n I join th' battle too, 'n dun' help th' spirit?"
there's a semblance of sadness in him, to relate the tale, knowing the repercussions that will be endured
there's also a great deal of something..... else in regards to what happened
shoulders roll beneath his trench to signal a shrug
easily concealing the reaction for this was not the time or place for personal grudges"S'why Eagles choose a watch ov'r th' Caern 'stead a bein' on th' front where it obvious a war pack b'long."
(leroy)
He understood James for the most part. Hell it was sorta like hood jive or at least he thought. The meat of it for better or worse was understood. Cliona's words however met with an open slack jaw. Was she speaking english at all? Irish..he gathered that, but the rest and the rapid succession of her speech left him balking in confusion. "What t'fuck she say?" He muttered downwards to Nelly whom was standing beside him for clarity.Attention never able to rest for such a response, words were flying from other's mouths faster than some had time to form their own thoughts. Gaze shifting from one another, absorbing each in attempt to form his own conclusion. The Fostern Fianna aided more in clarifying Cliona's accented mutterings; which caused a smile within himself of thanks towards the man. "Oh..ok" He muttered more to himself after that.
Faith's words stole his enraptured attention from everyone. Long he listened to her thoughts given to speech. Nodding with her query upon he. But then his eye bore sharp, narrowed like Roman Spears behind their phalnax wall. Planted, pointed and thrusted into Decker's heart from across the room; because of his hissings upon their Alpha Mark. "Jesus Christ, we're in second grade" Shaking his head with an inward chuckle, muttering softly for Nelly only to hear him.
Then Mark entered. Grandious, as usual. Almost rolling his eyes at not foreseeing such a boast, but he didnt. Instead he remained silent. Offering him only a nod with the hand upon his shoulder, his eyes falling to Nelly with her single word uttered. Then just as easily before they returned upon Decker with a slivery accord. Flashing curiousity at his boast, listening to James recall his perception upon the subject. Perception? Fact? Who cares at this moment.
"Excuse Me" His voice boomed out "Frankly at this juncture, we neither have the time nor the luxury of challenges. As per the danger that envelopes and threatens us. So as a friendly reminder, lets stay on course here shall we? Theurges need protection, the Formation of a War party should be errected. Since it seems everyone here is leaning to the splitting of forces anyways. Perhaps we should all go to the caern. After all, aint it the most important? But I aint making that call. Im gonna remind everyone here, despite whatever feelings you may or may not have. We havent the luxury nor time to express them. So..shall we shut up, zip up our pants and start working together without slinging our dicks?" Arching his brow there in the darkness that obscured his expressions.
(faith)
Faith's packmates catch a mental snort projected by the Gaian to them. Fer fuck's sake, Mark... would you quit being such a threat to everybody's masculinity? Everytime I turn around, you're getting called out for so much as pissing wrong..."LeRoy's right." She says softly, arms still crossed - Mark might feel her back tense slightly under her coat. "We don't have time for this. I don't doubt you two could go back and forth all night about who's at fault and what was the right way to do things, but, frankly, that doesn't matter now. The issue is who will protect the Theurges, and who will guard the front... well, the warriors have had their say on the matter, and obviously that hasn't resolved much.
The Spirit-talkers are the ones put at risk at the Caern heart. Perhaps we shoul
Posted by james at January 02, 2004 12:00 AM
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