[Marrick] [How is she doing today…]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Marrick] Too. Much. Energy.
There were days that you needed to blow off the obvious tensions and what-have-you. She needed to move. To the point that running felt like praise to Gaia and there was nothing more than rhythmic steps and air… which… were not enough. The moon was rising closer to full, and instead she found herself needing to blow off a different kind of tension.
She spent the rest of the time in the umbra, staring at maelstrom. There was a moment, once, where she was in a state of absolute balance. All rage and resolve and spiritual strength.
Marrick missed that.
Attire was comfortable- jeans, hooded sweatshirt, tennis shoes.
[Dirge of the Covenant] “Deze plaats is een varkensvarkenskot “
He couldn’t stand walking around the bawn in the physical world any longer. It was just to much of a mess. What kind of Keeper of the Land would allow the litter to gather like this? Not to mention what items were found down by the docks. The shit that floated in the water was just…. grotesque. How could any Gaia loving garou ever let their sacred ground come to such… filth.
He had to step across, forcing himself through the gauntlet even though the weaver pushed back at him. Even in Gaia’s most sacred places it was hard within the city of Chicago. These american garou needed to learn the true needs of the war.
He stood just at the base of the hill that led up to the Maelstrom, his gray suit seemed to stand out among the spirits of debris and rats. He was regal and noble, this was… the baseness of the Urrah way.
[Marrick] She wasn’t expecting a visitor. She wasn’t expecting to see him either. The Fury looked up and down the Silver Fang for a second and shoved her hands into her hoodie pocket. The motion itself was forceful and rife with the tension that come with an accident of noble birth and a moon that was rising to full.
“Doesn’t give anything back,” she said, “had th’ thought once that Maelstrom wanted sacrifice so it’s a common banner folks can unite under… but I dunno, ain’t a theurge, don’t pretend t’understand maelstrom.”
A beat. A rest. She looked at him again.
“Don’t you ever wear jeans?”
[Dirge of the Covenant] “Zo onbezorgde Amerikanen, altijd”
He looked at the woman standing over the spirit of Maelstrom, watching the churning water underneath them now. It was calling forth for more sacrifice, more need.
“The spirit asks for sacrifice because it suffers. Such a majestic spirit condemn to churn in the midst of this… shit hole. Its waters cry out.”
He watches her a moment more after she asks her question. Keeping an eye on the “elder” of the Sept. No wonder silver fangs did not run this sept, it was weak. It needed their aid now.
“I am surprised to find a child of wyld to find home in a city.”
Ignoring her jeans comment.
[Marrick] “The wyld ain’t confined to grass plains and groves and wells. If there’s something wyld that persists in a city, it needs someone t’tend an’ protect it more than anything so it can grow.”
They were actually having a conversation, or the beginnings of one. She rolled her shoulders back and straightened up. Her back popped; it sounded disgusting. A resounding crack, but it didn’t seem to bother her much at all.
“It’s there, though… place sure as shit ain’t Oklahoma, though.”
She realizes, perhaps a bit too late, that he might not know or care where Oklahoma is “-plains state. Lotsa farmland. Grass for miles. Home to some of the oldest mountains in th’ United States… though they ain’t much more than hills now. Fertile land. No lakes.”
As though it bared to mention.
[Dirge of the Covenant] “You are probably better suited to understand the ways of the wyld than I.”
Then she starts in on the topography of the plain states and the location of where the state of Oklahoma is. He watches her for a few more moments before he begins to turn away from her, looking towards the spirit of the water.
“Really?”
His accent very thick with the European dialect of the Belgian state. It was probably sarcasm but it was hidden in the depth of his broken english.
[Marrick] “Yep, every lake in the state of Oklahoma was build by the WPA in th’ nineteen twenties an’ thirties durin’ the Great Depression. Rivers, streams, creeks, ponds, but nothin’ like Lake Michigan.”
He could have very well been sarcastic, but something was lost in translation. They were both creatures of prevalent accents, but hers was decidedly less indicative of being bilingual. She felt tension come back and rise again, “we’re leavin’ a whole side of this place unguarded with that damn lake.”
She clenched her jaw. And left it at that for a second.
She glanced back at him.
“Y’know, I never met a Fang b’fore I came t’Chicago…” She didn’t come out and say it. That she wanted to know more, but she did look at him with something between discomfort and curiosity, “so… yer a Galliard… can you… y’know… tell me ’bout y’all?”
[Dirge of the Covenant] He just shakes his head when she starts to talk about the history of this country or that of the state she came from. He didn’t really care much for what she had to say. Human division and history meant little to him. It was all meaningless in the Garou nation, issues he didn’t care much for.
“It is said that all Garou were Silver Fangs in the beginning. If one were to take the single best quality from each of the tribes and bring them together in a Garou, that Garou would be a Silver Fang.”
His eyes turn back to the her for a moment, then back to the water.
“We are the patron tribe of Helios, Falcon unites us as a tribe. Granting us the right of leadership, but it was Luna herself that gave us the gift of Kingship. She bestowed upon Gaia’s warriors not only the ability to change, but the right to rule. That, Ahround Elder, is why our fur is pure silver. To thank Luna for her gifts.”
[Dirge of the Covenant] (brb)
[Marrick] “Cain’t be all th’ best qualities, y’all had to let boys in,” she grinned. It wasn’t half hearted at all; it was, in fact, amused.
Well aware that he’s male. Well aware of a lot of things, her attempt at bad, Fury-related humor is left aside. It didn’t matter, she had amused herself and at the end of the day it was what mattered. Though, for all that she was, she managed to hink outside of her personal box for a second.
“That actually puts some of yer tribemates in perspective, though… the way things sound, doesn’t seem like there’s much of y’all left. But it makes the whole… breeding thing make sense.”
[Dirge of the Covenant] (back)
[Dirge of the Covenant] He watches her as she starts to talk about the silver fangs or what she knows about the Silver fangs. His thick accent deepens the power of what he has to say.
“Are you serious that you do not know of the Silver fangs? Our birthright to rule? The ancient oaths all tribes took before us? What do they teach you here in America?”
He can only shake his head, he got here at the right time. This Sept desperately needed the presence of the noble tribe.
[Marrick] “What yer taught an’ what’s true ain’t always the same thing, Fons. Prefer t’check my facts instead of believin’ what everyone says… I thought Fenrir were vicious assholes but as it turns out I was sorely mistaken. So!” she inhales, “better safe then make an ass outta myself.”
Vicious, yes. Assholes? Sometimes.
“So, gimme yer stories, talesinger. Yer heroes, yer strengths… there ain’t many Fangs where I’m from. things are different out there, but it don’t make ’em better an’ it don’t make ’em worse.”
[Dirge of the Covenant] His eyes narrow at her for a moment and then sniffs at her a little. Trying to get a better feel for the woman.
“Hmmm…. Geen vlekje, minstens kan ik vertellen.”
He looks at her a bit more and then back to water.
“The legends of heroes are multitude in Silver Fang lore. The blood of my ancestors are forth with heroic leaders of the Nation. Where should I start?”
He paused a second, his eyes going upward as if to recall something, or in this method talk with his ancestors.
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 9 (Failure at target 8)
[Marrick] [per+empathy, WTF? diff 7)
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 4, 7 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Dirge of the Covenant] (Manipulation+Subterfuge. No really I had an allergy, I swear. )
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 8)
[Joss Lehrer] …speaking of vicious assholes, here comes one now. Sorta.
She’s not walking, or stalking, or running. Not today. Today, she is dancing. Her discussions with the old Godi went far to put the bounce back in her step, though she still mourns deeply for the loss of her friend and her part in it. Understanding has come on one level for the events that occurred, but the emotional reactions still take time to wade through, coming out on the other side.
It’ll take time. But she is Fenrir. She will succeed.
So for now, she dances as she hums to herself, her feet moving to a beat all her own, the Chicago wind playing her partner as she glides gracefully toward Maelstrom. Her dreads hang heavily down her bag, the wind tugging at the beads and feathers interspersed throughout, her skirts tug and pull around her calves, and through out it all, she waltzes.
Sorta.
[Marrick] Fons has a runny nose. Poor Fons. She shrugs, and whatever he’s selling she buys it.
“Well, start at the part you like… like, your earliest memory, the stuff yer parents used to tell you ’bout your tribe. Heroes you wanna emulate. Stories ’bout battles against horrific odds. Honorable duels. Sacrifice– start somewhere.”
She catches the wind move. And when the wind shifts, so does Marrick’s position. It was a little movement, enough that it didn’t seem too important. She looks down in the distance and catches a look at Joss. She grins ear to ear and waves.
“Joss Lehreeeeeeeer!”
[Dirge of the Covenant] He rubs at his nose a little before looking back down to Fury before him. It seemed that Farahilde did not wish to speak through him tonight. Maybe it was the thick taint of Weaver that hindered him from his connection to his ancestors. He was already starting to get sick of the city.
“Well let me tell you a story, glorious and tragic all wrapped into one. The tale of my great, great, great, great grandmother Farahilde “Havoc’s Warcry” Anthro Full-moon of the Silver Fangs, of House Gleaming Eye. A proud and strong leader she was… keen in battle, educated in the arts of war. Never once had the wyrm laid hands on her for she was that skilled in the pitch of the battle. But that was also the cause of her downfall.”
He moves from the edge of the water to circle about her, almost like a predator encircling his prey. The words were only part of the true tale. And even as she screams out the name of another, it didn’t matter. This Joss could learn a thing as well, listening to the true wonder of the Silver fangs.
“Havoc’s warcry would never stand down from any challenge that the wyrm put against her and her pack. The wyrm continued to send wave after wave, assault after assault on the Sept of Unyeilding Strength. Each wave grew stronger and stronger, but each failed miserably. Each failed as the wyrm is apt to do. But that soon changed….”
He lowered himself, as if he was ready to spring into battle, ready to attack. But not now, not here, not in his suit.
“One day the wyrm brought a legion of warriors, packs ontop of packs led by one Fallen one wielding a truly corrupted weapon, a klaive tainted with the hatred and creulty of the Wyrm. The caern was at war and Havoc’s warcry stood atop the hill before the heart of the Caern. Watching the mass of the wyrm gather. With a great warcry that sent the many of the fomori running, scared, but the fallen stood, bolstered by the one who yielded the acursed Klaive. A great battle exploded forth.”
He exploded up, as the battle raged in his mind. His eyes a fury.
“Gaia was made proud of her children that day, many fought beyond their limits, falling to the wyrm’s wicked claws. But more of the Fallen fell then ours. And when only the one yeilding the wicked unklaive stood, he throw the klaive into the ground, fleeing like the cowardly wyrm was often to do. But that unklaive… that weapon so diseased, started to disease the land, spreading its taint. None could touch the weapon, even as its horrors spread. No theurge could cleanse the blight it caused. The wyrm seemed to have won when Havoc’s Warcry stood forth.”
He stood tall now, emboldened by his ancestors actions.
“She ran into the blight, her howl so deafening and terrifying that the blight would not touch her. And as she came upon the weapon, she ripped through it, fangs and claws ripping it piece by piece. Seperating the wyrm spirit from the weapon, but in her rage and glory she tore her own flesh apart. Wounded beyond the touch of any healer. But the blight was no more. She sacrificed herself so that the wyrm would not win. Not consume them all.”
With that he steps back. Done with the glory of his own kin.
[Dirge of the Covenant] (Charimsa+Expression+PB)
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Joss Lehrer] She looks up at the cry, and waves back. “MAAAAAARRICK FIIIIIIIISHER!” Her smile is warm, easy, genuine as she changes the direction of her path to join Marrick and her new… uh. friend.
She doesn’t interrupt, watching as he speaks his tale, her head tipping slightly as he continues on.
and on.
and on.
She nods, then, and grins at Marrick. “Who’s your friend?”
[Marrick] She is good, however, through the whole story.
Or, well, she tries to be. The Fury is really trying to focus, and the initial outburst of saying hi to Joss had been quieted in time to listen to what else he was saying. She was not the brightest of creatures, but she was certainly an imaginative one. She keeps her hands in her pockets, and she thinks about this story for a second. Were she the manipulative sort, this tale would tell more about him than his ancestor. Were she the inquisitive sort, which she was, she would-
“What ’bout this story made you want to tell it? Like… what ’bout Havoc’s Warcry inspired you,” in short, inside the storyteller’s mind, why this story?
She gives Joss a hipcheck, a bump with one side and she grins a little.
“Joss? This is Fons. He can do th’ rest of the introducin’ there.”
[Marrick] [-1 WP: keep. paying. attention!]
[Dirge of the Covenant] He looks at the newcomer, the way she stands, the blood in her veins, the feeling she gives off. Fenrir most assuredly.
“I am Fons “Dirge of the Covenant” Van der Noot, Silver Fang Galliard of House Gleaming Eye, pupil of the Sun court. Son to Gilam “Cleaves Shadows from Flesh” Ahroun Athro, begotten by Ludolf “Invokes the Ways” Philodox Athro. Nephew of King Calvin de Provence, King of House Gleaming Eye.”
[Joss Lehrer] She returns that hipcheck on her friend, and then straightens as Dirge gives his full introduction. Her lips twitch. She presses them together briefly, though something shimmers in her gaze. Marrick will recognize it. Marrick would know.
She slides her hands into the pockets of her skirts, and nods, slightly. She clears her throat. “I am Joss Lehrer, Gossamer Wing, Fostern Godi, Eagle, and Theurge Elder of the Sept of Maelstrom.”
She holds back a question.
Barely.
[Dirge of the Covenant] He looks between Joss and Marrick, then back to Joss.
“Deze plaats is vreemd “
Then he turns to the Fenrir Fostern, his eyes seem to furrow with wonder about their Urrah ways. His accent thick with the germanic tongue, a european garou.
“I keep hearing of this.. Elders… but from Luna’s birth. Is this a… city thing?”
[Marrick] Marrick Fisher looks between the two, purses her lips, and keeps her mouth rather firmly shut. It’s a good thing.
[Joss Lehrer] “It is the way we do things here at Maelstrom. We are a city ever if flux, with Garou coming, staying a while, leaving, dying. It’s the way of the City. A council of Elders is more effective than a tribal council. As Elders, we serve as advisers to Balance without Fault, the Grand Elder. We know the strengths and weaknesses of all of our moon better than any and that makes us more equipped to fight the Wyrm here within our protectorate.”
She tips her head, slightly, and chuckles. “I dare say you will find many things that you do not expect here, Fons. The Wyrm adapts, changes, fights differently in every area. We would be foolish to refuse to adapt and change ourselves. We honor tradition, blood and war, but we change where needed in order to continue to fight effectively against an ever changing enemy. Those who are two tradition bound and refuse to change are often the first to fall.”
[Joss Lehrer] (two=too)
[Dirge of the Covenant] His eyes furrow when she speaks about those being too tradition bound, his brown eyes seem to pierce through a great deal as if he could see into her very soul.
“Balance Without Fault, is Urrah as well then.”
He huffs a little as she talks about upholding the ways.
“As long as the ancient pacts are upheld…”
[Marrick] She looked at Fons, and her jaw clenched and she folded her arms firmly across her chest. She didn’t move, and yet she didn’t speak after that. There weren’t exactly words to be had. She’s learned what he’s good at, and that was for certain.
“… is it customary t’talk shit about the Grand Elder in the caern in Europe?”
[Joss Lehrer] She doesn’t flinch from his gaze. She is Fostern. He is not. There are reasons for such differences. She simply arches a brow, slightly, almost daringly. Her eyes are pale, yet spark with intelligence, and sparkle with good humor. She’s yet to meet a Fang that doesn’t try her patience though. Somehow, she doubts he’ll be any different.
She glances at Marrick, and chuckles. “I’ve a feeling that Fons here talks a great deal of shit, don’t you, Fonzie ole boy. Tell me something..”
and here, her resistance fails. “….jumped any sharks lately?”
[Dirge of the Covenant] His eyes look over to the Fury a moment longer as she starts up again. His eyes darken as she tries his patience again, like the other night.
“No, we accept the truth of what is. But we also know not to tempt our superiors again. Unless you wish to be further educated on Silver Fang rule.”
His focus comes back to the Theurge again, her humor lost on him. Something about sharks he has no understanding of.
“Is that customary here in America?”
[Marrick] She seems to genuinely think about it. The Fury regarded him, jaw clenched… and she was silent for awhile.
“… if that’s a challenge, let’s go. If it wasn’t? I’ll live t’test yer patience another day. Around here? You need deeds to back up noble birth, it’s a state you gotta live into.”
A beat, and then malice and frustration aside.
“You ever been hunting in a city?”
[Joss Lehrer] She presses her lips together, trying to hold back the laughter, but it escapes anyway as she answers simply, “Yes.”
And leaves it at that. Back to other things.
“You’ll find, Fonzie, that just because your pelt is white, it does not mean you are fit to rule. Welcome to America – they call it the melting pot for a reason. Respect is earned, not freely given to any pretty face.. Balance without Fault has earned his. Best mind your tongue, or risk losing it.”
[Dirge of the Covenant] He looks between the two of them now, just checking the pair as they were the…. Elders of the sept or at least some of them. This was what he was stepping into. He was not happy with it at all.
“I am sorry that I must rob you of my presence, but I must make myself more accustomed to this… place.”
He does not give pause, but turns on the two. Just making a memory of them. They will learn the proper respect that those of pure breeding have the right to rule. They will learn their lessons well.
And with that he moves off, leaving the faux elders to their chirping.
[Marrick] “Oh. My. God, he’s gonna love Katherine,” she rolled her eyes and started to head up the hill to see Maelstrom.
[Joss Lehrer] She rolls her eyes, and gasps, dramatically
“OH gee, whatever shall we do, Marrick, now that we’re not in the presence of greatness?” she clutches her heart with one hand, lifts her other wrist to her forehead and mock swoons…
[Joss Lehrer] She grins and follows Marrick “Dear ole Kate got et by a 3 headed dog the other day.”
It was awesome.
[Marrick] “I don’t know, I’m overwhelmed!” She looks at Joss and she tries to keep a straight face. She stopped her trek up the hill and grinned. then alughed.
“Gawd, word to the wise? That dude is terrifying. He gives a good speech, but I don’t think he could take a punch to save his life.”
She looked back at Joss and her eyes widened.
“Seriously?! How did that happen?”
[Joss Lehrer] “Good. I’ll rip out his tongue next time before he has the chance to bore me to death.”
She grins and nudges Marrick with her shoulder. “First off – the battle was in a BATHROOM. Well, under it. Which meant she ws already squicked out, and there was a Spiral pack down there, and when we’d taken care of most of them, out pops their doggy and CHOMP Kate was in his gullet. We killed it, of course, and Lukas freed her.”
And then she does a pretty good imitation of the Fang Philodox, and mimics trying to rid herself of filth and whines prettily “Why am I the one that always gets eaten?!”
And then she’s laughing again. “Priceless.”
[Marrick] (dex+athletics: falling over is bad)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Marrick] She looks at her and snorts. Then snorts again… then? Giggles.
Marrick covers her mouth the way a self-conscious girl with braces would while laughing. She puts her hand to her mouth and tries to keep quiet. It doesn’t do any good; it’s a little difficult to be seen as terrifying when you’re laughing like she does.
“Why am-“ she can’t keep a straight face long enough to repeat it“that always-“
She giggles a little more, then lets out a long sigh.
“Ohhhh, shit that’s funny..”
[Joss Lehrer] “I had to beat feet outa there before I busted out laughing. Though I did tell her that she might simply be too hard a tasty morsel to resist all wrapped up in white. Then I left before she had a chance to recover and reply….”
Joss is many things – stupid isn’t one of them. And she’s still laughing as she shakes her head. “She and Snooty der Nooty are gonna get along just fine, I’ve a feeling.”
[Marrick] “You know, he might flip his shit if he met Lukas. I mean, I heard Lords an’ Fangs don’t quite get along.”
She paused for a second, “y’know, if Fonzie didn’t seem so hard line traditional, he’d probably fit in pretty well with th’ Unbroken.”
She seems to be musing over this.
[Joss Lehrer] She snorts. “The Unbroken can have him. I can’t stand people who think they’re the shit just because they’re white.”
She shrugs, slightly, and pushes her dreads back over her shoulder, as she looks along the hillside, up to where Maelstrom waits for them. “I got to speak to a Godi elder recently. He asked how we could find Gaia here. I don’t see how we could not.….”
[Marrick] She shakes her head. “Freakin’ white people.”
She lets the grin come off her face, and she regards Joss quietly. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, “Fons asked the same thing. Said he didn’t know how a creature of the wyld could stand being in a city… I think… y’wonder if people are afraid of cities?”
[Joss Lehrer] She laughs softly and nods. “I think they are frightened of what they don’t understand. They think Gaia is only seen in this..” she gestures toward the land, the lake, the area around them. “They think Gaia, or the Wyld, is only visible in a tangible sense, in pristine snow, or rolling hills and deep dark forests. But they forget the one place we can always find Gaia.”
She looks at Marrick and smiles. “Do you know where to find her, Marrick?”
[Marrick] “‘course… it’s… Gaia isn’t…” she falters, as though she’s having a difficult time using words, “it’s somethin’ you feel, and it’s somethin’ you know… you can feel it, you can feel the strength of Gaia without having to actually see it. And you know when it’s diminished.”
She looks at Joss, and it’s her turn to wear a curiosity that shouldn’t belong to her.
“Where are you going with this?” she asked.
I want to learn, she said without saying.
[Joss Lehrer] She nods, encouragingly as Marrick searches for, and finds the words to try and come up with an answer that makes sense to both of them.
“Exactly. The number one place to find Gaia, Marrick, is within us. So many, like Fons, think that it has to be seen, visible, evidenced in the area around us, and while we fight to make that so -they forgot the most obvious place to find Gaia, in all her strength and wisdom. She’s inside US. Not just out there… in here.” She taps her breastbone then, and nods.
Then she turns to Marrick and jerks her chin in the directionof the Brotherhood, the direction that Fons left as well. “They forget. They think it’s all in what we can see, can prove. We know better. We remember. No matter what they say, what they do, how hoity toity they want to be… the truth remains. We are ALL of Gaia. We ALL are worthy of her – none more so than any other.”
Sometimes it’s nigh impossible to remember she’s just an 18 year old girl.
[Marrick] (pause!)