Time/Date :It is currently 09:09 Pacific Time on Mon Jan 28 2008.

Place : Bawn: Southern Forest(#3017RAJ)

Weather :Currently in Saint Claire, it is foggy. The temperature is 19 degrees Fahrenheit (-7 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 29.67 and rising, and the relative humidity is 95 percent. The dewpoint is 18 degrees Fahrenheit (-7 degrees Celsius.)

Moon Phase :Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (63% full).

Bawn: Southern Forest(#3017RAJ)

Evergreen trees spread their overhead branches wide across the forest floor. Each tree limb interlinks with its neighbor, forming a thick overhead canopy of pine needles that leaves the forest floor dim even at noon. An apparent tenseness seems to permeate the air here, and there is a somewhat less than subtle feeling that perhaps something is watching. The behavior of the wildlife in the area betrays a certain wariness that suggests the presence of predators nearby.
The southern edge of the bawn is marked here by the railroad tracks which run from St. Claire and Kent's Crossing to the west, towards the mountains to the east.


A medium-sized she-wolf with glossy fur and a purity of line that indicates recently-achieved adulthood. She has a midnight black pelt streaked lightly with silver in the belly area. A few scars disturb the lie of the fur across her back, one of which seems to have healed poorly, leaving a bare patch of skin showing pale against the surrounding dark. There is an air of dissatisfaction and irritability about her, her yellow eyes are filled with rage as they stare out at the world.
In this form, Escapes-From-Money's athleticism is more obvious, and she moves with a combination of speed and compact power. There is a hint of classic Black Fury in her form and shape, though it has been heavily diluted by other stock.


This young man is of middling, unimpressive height and is a thin and gangly teen. A pale and dull complexion coupled with short, jet black hair flowing back in waves makes this decently handsome young man seem more dour. Thick, flowing eyebrows and focused, intense grey eyes do nothing to make his visage less imposing. His ears are sort of large, as if his head hadn't grown into them, and his face is rigid and straight, though his nose does curve slightly to the left and seems a little long for his face, also. Long, spindley fingers emerge from thin hands that hang idly at his sides sometimes, but more often than not are housed in whatever pockets he might have. His arms, when his sleeves are rolled up, are thin but very hairy. He generally has a poker face on, a blank slate that can easily smile or scowl - at his discretion, and his discretion alone.
He is wearing a too-large blue sweatshirt with a big pocket in the front, loose fitting khakis, and thick wool socks.

The thin fog snakes and coils around the trees on the bawn, parted by a gangly figure in a sweatshirt and khakis. A pale teen with jet black hair jogs through the woods, sweat running down his brow.

Through the tendrils of smoke, her paws striking up flurries of mud as she bounds and turns, jaw handing open as she pants for breath, comes Escapes-From-Money, the Fury Ahroun. Scenting the running teen, she drops into "stalk" mode, though (a) she isn't very good at it and (b) she isn't trying very hard, but she paces him, running about thirty yards wide of his track.

Viktor eventually becomes aware of the presence behind him and starts to slow to a grinding halt, drawing his hand across his brow and slinging the sweat onto the already most leaves below him. He turns to look at the wolf who was trailing him to wait for her.

The wolf comes closer, suddenly wary. She sniffs the air, as if trying to decipher the teen's scent. Are you garou? she asks, with a wuff. Or am I going to have to savage you to death?

Viktor tenses visibly, though his face remains a blank slate. He looks about himself to make sure no one is within earshot before leaning in and speaking in a softer voice. "No mauling necessary. Viktor Braginsky, Shadow Lord, Philodox, cub. At your service."

Escapes takes a few padding steps closer, and then slowly shifts up to homid form. KL pushes her hair back into place and settles her jacket around her shoulders. "Hello," she says. "KL Cole, Escapes-From-Money, Cliath Ahroun of the Black Furies, packed under Wolverine as part of HAVOC." She looks warily at Viktor. "Shadow Lord Philodox? Better be careful. Bad things happen to them around here."

Viktor is obviously confused, and he shifts his weight from one leg to the other as he waits for an explanation. Finding none, he asks, "Er...you mean on the Bawn?" He scratches at his stubble, the itch irritating.

"Not especially," KL says, folding her arms over her chest. "They say the wrong thing to the wrong person, and all of a sudden they fall to pieces." She grins at him, not entirely pleasantly. "Still, best not to let that bother you."

Viktor stares at her for a moment blankly, but something seems to click behind his cool grey spheres after a second or two. He settles back into a relaxed pose, his hands sliding into his pockets. "I don't think it's a worry...KL-rhya." He smiles pleasantly. "I'm past being bothered about things of this nature. What can I do for you?"

"Oh, nothing," KL says. "I was just out for a run when I ran across your scent. Thought it would be fun to stalk you." She unfolds her arms, and smiles more warmly. "How long have you been out here? Are you living on the bawn?"

"Not long truthfully, I think it's coming up on two weeks but I tend to lose track of the time," Viktor chatters. "I'm living in the Shadow Lord territory next to a warm fire, more or less." He extends his hand, palm open. "It's good to meet you. You're the first Black Fury I've met."

KL shakes his hand, still smiling - though her eyes don't really echo her mouth, remaining tense and wary. "There's quite a lot of us at the moment," she says. "The Elder is Nike - she's another Ahroun, then there's me and Helen - a ragabash, Melodie and Zeke - both Philodoxes, and Myra, who's a cub."

"Truth be told I'm usually running or otherwise training - that may be why we haven't met. I haven't really left the Bawn since my kidnapping." Viktor's eyes leave little doubt that he's picked up on the attitude, though his smile remains pleasant and his demeanor is...well, also pleasant. "I look forward to meeting them also."

The Fury Ahroun gives a little nod of the head. "I understand the Alpha is a little busy at the moment," she says. "And there are not many of your tribe here. Is there anything you need? Clothes, food?"

Viktor shakes his head, "I am getting along fine with what I can do," Viktor nods to himself here, "and I would hardly bother you with something so trivial as clothing having only just met you. I'll be fine. I nabbed my first kill yesterday late at night, so I don't think I will be going hungry." Charming, though odd that the young teen hardly blinks for anything.

"Well, if you do need anything, we live on the western edge of the bawn," KL says, cheerfully enough. "Just come and howl and someone will try and sort you out. It's not that easy living out here, especially with it being so cold."

Viktor smiles genuinely here. "Thank you for the offer. It's appreciated. Maybe I'll take you up on it," the pale teen states in his quiet way, hands shoved back into his pockets. "Maybe we can go kill prey together too, one night. Though I imagine I'd likely slow you down," Viktor tosses off thoughtfully, eyes wandering off into the sky distantly.

"Oh, probably," KL says frankly. "Though I'm not the greatest four-legged hunter in the world. But yes, sure. It'll be fun. And don't let yourself get forgot about - it does happen, and then you'll still be a cub despite being fifty."

Viktor extends his hand again affably, "It's a deal. I look forward to it. I've got to be going now, I can't live with myself if I don't get stronger." He winks.

KL laughs and shakes. "Gaia go with you," she bids, heading off herself in the opposite direction, first on two legs and then, after a few minutes, on four.

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