Time/Date : It is currently 15:50 Pacific Time on Wed Mar 26 2008.

Place : Greek House: Common Area(#2409RAJh$)

Weather :Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 41 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northwest at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.94 and steady, and the relative humidity is 76 percent. The dewpoint is 34 degrees Fahrenheit (1 degrees Celsius.)

Moon Phase :Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (68% full).

Greek House: Common Area(#2409RAJh$)

This is the central hub of the house. From here, you can still see the entrance foyer, as well as the stairway that heads to the second story. Towards the back of the common area is a set of glass doors that lead out to a courtyard. To the east, an arched doorway leads to what apparently serves as a library, office, and workroom, and to the west, an arched doorway leads to what appears to be a kitchen and dining area..
There are several chairs here, simple, elegant, yet functional in their design and intent. The room has a comfortable feel to it, but is a bit ascetic in design. The walls are off-white, the molding dark cherry wood and decorated with acanthus-leaf ornamentation at the corners. A pair of antique spears are hung crossed against each other on one wall, and a wall-relief depicting a scene of Grecian warriors hangs on the other. Above the mantle of the fireplace is a small statue of Artemis, on either side of that, dark metal candlesticks with ivory pillar candles. The entire room is a study in the contrast of light and dark.


Now in her early twenties, KL has lost much of the teenage stroppiness that characterised her younger self. It has been replaced by a slower burning, though still as fierce, intensity. She is still on the short side, standing perhaps 5'2" tall in her bare feet, and has a slightly built and slender frame, with a tight musculature that speaks of plentiful exercise. When she moves, she displays a compact grace, poise and balance. Even if she still occasionally slouches.
She has long, mid-brown - uncharitable people would say mousy - hair which she usually wears in a long plait that falls down between her shoulder-blades, secured at the top and the bottom with wide black leather bands. She's really quite attractive, perhaps not a pin-up, but far from ugly, with a cute upturned nose and wide expressive hazelnut eyes. There's something off-putting about her, though - she has an aggressive posture, a tendency to glare at people - particularly people she doesn't know, and an air of barely-restrained violence.
She has pale skin decorated in two places - on her left upper arm is a largish tattoo of something that looks a little like a bear, with its jaws spread wide and slaver falling in droplets. It has the words "No Mercy" written with gusto beneath it. On her right shoulder-blade, if visible, is a second tattoo, two-inch-square, of a winged horse.
Unless obscured by clothing, visible across her throat is a fairly horrendous scar, an angry stripe running from the bottom right corner until it terminates just below her jawline on the left side. More likely to be obscured is the scar in the small of her back, faded and older, but just as horrible.
She is wearing a pair of blue jeans that look brand-new, and have a designer label clearly visible on the rear, a pair of combat boots that also look new. On her upper half she is sporting a rather snazzy black leather jacket over a clean new white t-shirt.
Around her neck hangs a pendant, an oval disk made of some kind of bone. It looks like it's been decorated with carved designs, which are somewhat hard to make out on casual inspection. The pendant is hung on a leather thong.

Looking at Reggie:

Three hundred pounds of muscle, fat, and gristle pour unevenly down a frame over six feet, puddling in an overflowing belly barely restrained by jeans desperately calling upon extra-strong reinforced seams and solid brass hardware. Army-short hair outlines the dome of the skull, newly decorated by a circular slice cutting bone-deep evenly around its circumference. A monobrow shelters sunken, piggish eyes. An unevenly flattened nose and cauliflowered ears have evidently received many a fist in the past. A patchwork of grey wolf fur hangs over his shoulders, arms, and chest, covering distorted, hairfree skin. The hands demonstrate a history rich in manual labor, with stumpy, thick fingers and fingernails broken to the quick. His right arm is a massive length of scar tissue from shoulder to hand, with the muscling of a paraplegic. A black feather is braided into the grey fur on his right shoulder.

Afternoon, Fury House, sees the Fury Elder recuperating. Well, she's supposed to be recuperating. What she's actually doing is craftwork. She's bent over the craftboard pinned to the table, working on what appears to be a long leather strap with a grooving tool, her tongue between her lips in an expression of concentration.

An ugly hulk of a man pushes his way through the woods into the back courtyard of the Greek House. Reggie's not particularly nattily groomed, though he pulls away a small twig entangled in his wolfskin garment. He pauses as he enters the courtyard, looking for obvious activity in the house, then crosses the courtyard and knocks on the back door.

KL lays down the grooving tool, and heads to open the glass doors. "Reggie-rhya," she greets, her voice still a trifle rough. Her new scar is prominently visible across her neck, red and raw and only partially healed over. "Come in. I have something to give to you."

Reggie's eyes jump to the new scar decorating KL's neck. "Hey, KL", he greets the Fury. "Zeke told me you're here. You've got news for me?" He raises his eyebrows in curiosity at KL's mention of a gift, and he steps into the house, glancing around the room until he sees KL's craft project, which he focuses on for a few moments before turning back to the Fury.

The craft project is some kind of strap, quite long, black leather, with what appears to be some musical notes engraved on it. The Fury smiles to Reggie. "Not...really a gift," she says, "hold on a second." She heads into the office and returns a few moments later with a black plastic sack, with something round and heavy in it, which she holds out to the Uktena. There's a grim expression on her face.

Reggie glances again at the strap as KL leaves the room, in an attempt to read the marks on it, but KL isn't gone long, and his attention shifts to the heavy bag. "For me?", he asks, as he takes the bag, and tests its weight with a jiggle of his hand, then opens the bag and peers inside.

Not the most pleasant of gifts. It appears to be the head of a human - or a Garou. It's already smelling quite foul, and one of the most notable things about it is that it is missing its nose. KL folds her arms across her chest, watching the Fostern closely.

Reggie reaches into the bag and pulls out the head with a little difficulty, the plastic bag sticking to various sections of sticky, wet, and putrid flesh, but finally he frees the head by pulling the bag off the head, and holds it out as he examines it, turning the head one way, then another. "I've never met this fellow. This is the Veil Breaker?"

"That's him," KL says, plopping herself down in a chair and waving at another one, for Reggie. She sounds tired, more than anything else. "Do you want to hear the story?"

Reggie tips the head back into the bag, where it falls with a plop. "Tell me", he urges KL. "First--my kin lives in Yakima. Was anyone there hurt? Killed?", he asks tensely. The offer of the chair is, for the moment, ignored for the question.

KL looks askance at this. "We took him in the forest, well away from inhabitation. I confess I don't know if he had killed anyone before we got there." She pauses. "Some of this you may already know. He had fled St. Claire for Yakima. Riot and Quiet got permission from Jacinta to go there. I don't know if that was necessary or not. We - that's me, Lefty, Riot and Quiet and Horace, went out there. Horace went in and spoke to some of the lupus kinfolk there, and from that we got a scent. I followed the scent, with the others, until we got to an area where he'd been living, mostly in lupus. He found us, rather than the other way around, but for some reason he decided to talk, rather than just attack us. I... taunted him. Insulted him. Said he was without honour and ugly. And I provoked him until he lost control, and he attacked me. It was what I wanted, I wanted him to be attacking me and just me, because I thought I could defend myself best, and it would prevent the others from being hurt. He was...very fast indeed. While I did my best to protect myself, the others attacked him with tooth and claw." She gestures to her throat, and then lifts her t-shirt, revealing a half-healed wound on her belly. "He hurt me badly. I just about survived. I... I don't know yet about my baby." Her brow furrows. "I have a kin who's a nurse, who'll come as soon as possible to check me out." She pauses. "I should tell you that the others, especially Riot, deserve much of the glory for this. Even though we argued afterwards. I wanted her to howl for him... for what he should have been. She...didn't want that."

At the lack of news about Yakima casualties, Reggie takes the indicated chair and squishing his bulk into it. The black bag dangles between his knees from open fingers, as the Uktena listens intently to KL's words. He studies her stomach as the shirt is lifted, and nods briefly. He shakes his head slightly at the question of howling, and asks, "How did you find he went to Yakima? Who decided who would go there?"

"Kaz did something that located him to a rough area," KL says. "Riot and Quiet had been involved from the start, and it would have been wrong to deny them. I wanted Lefty along. Riot deserves much of the honour, if there is any, for this, and much of the glory. It was her show, all the way up to the point where we found the scent. My tactics, my fight."

Reggie's brow wrinkles in a frown at each mention of the name of Riot. "Who asked Horace?", he continues with the questions. "And asked Kaz? So it was Riot's show, up to finding him. How did she take your going along with her?"

KL smiles at this, somewhat wryly. "Well, the first time I approached her, we argued fairly loudly. But I went back and apologised for my part in the row, and... oh, by the way, Fury Elder now...we sorted out the status of the RV, and allowing it to remain on Fury land indefinitely." She shrugs. "We were cool, in the end. I think we still are, though she's got a few rough edges."

Reggie purses his lips at the talk of Riot. "So she's good for more than shaking down my kin for thousands of dollars. I'm putting a stop to that. Don't ask them for money--take it up with me." He nods at the mention of Fury eldership. "Congratulations--you beat Nike?", he briefly glances through the glass doors at the archery targets. "Straight-out fight or other challenge terms?"

"Nike's gone," KL says. "She's gone to Boston. I spoke to the other Furies, who all agreed with me being the Elder. I'd rather have won it by challenging her, but I'm doing the job." She tips a palm. "Doing OK so far. Spoken to all of the Fury kin. Started redecorating the house."

Reggie hurms, gruffly. "Oh, she's gone", he states disappointedly at either the disappearance or lack of a challenge. "So, tell me again about the fight. Why were you worried about the others getting hurt? Did you tell them what you were going to do? What did he talk about? Who was this guy?"

"As I understand it, he was a Child of Gaia, originally, who had been made Ronin because he couldn't control his rage. Riot and Salem talked to him, to see if there was any chance of bringing him back to us," KL says. "He turned down the chance. Vera-rhya ordered him killed." She grimaces. "He had already beaten Riot and Quiet in a fight. He had the gift Spirit of the Fray, which helps. I know how much damage an Ahroun can do, in a very short space of time." She pauses. "I judged that I was the one best capable of withstanding him. But only if I could get him to attack me and only me. And if I could get him to fight stupidly. I didn't explain the plan in detail...but...um... I was the leader in the fight. It's my responsibility to ensure the minimum of risk to the people who follow me. The minimum of risk to all of us, but when someone has to be on the line, and I think I'm the best person for it to be... then I have to take the risk." She considers. "He called us honorless. Said that we should fight in single combat. I don't believe that a veil-breaching Ronin has honour. I'm not happy that it had to be done, but it did."

Reggie dangles the bag from loosely held fingers as he listens to KL. "The Children of Gaia have much to answer for if they set free someone who could not control himself", he states grimly. "Who was he? Did you get a name? Could we find where he came from?"

KL shakes her head. "Unless there's some sort of gift I don't know about that could interrogate him. I don't know that we ever got his real name." She screws her face up, in a grimace. "I think that was Riot was so keen on dealing with it. Clearing up her tribes' messes. I know something about that."

Reggie grimaces again at the mention of Riot. "Soemthing incongruous in that." He studies KL. "You've had the name Escapes-from-Money for how long? Since being a cub? You've been long overdue for a change--but this. What were you doing--did you want to earn the name of Sitting-Target?". He shakes his head, but grins, albeit with a grin distorted by his facial scars. "You got your job done--you took him down, you didn't plow through others without respect for them", he adds a mutter "Even if it was Riot", and continues, "You used losing his temper against him, instead of losing yours." He lifts the bag. "You gave me proof, and told me how you got it done. I'm proud of you. Takes-the-Blows?", he considers. "You thought of any names you like?"

"I should perhaps add that I very nearly died," KL says, with a grin. "I was downed, thought that was it. Last gasp. Perhaps Rises-Like-Phoenix? Something like that. Rises-Like-Phoenix-From-The-Fire-Of-Rage?" She furrows her brow. "That's a bit of a mouthfull, isn't it?"

Reggie rises from his chair, dropping the bag onto the floor carelessly as he does so, and ignores the bag leaking fluids onto the floor as he holds out his hands to clasp one of KL's hands. "Raging Phoenix", he tries out shorting the name, then resorts to the longer version with "Rises-Like-Phoenix-From-Rage's Fire, I am proud to call you an equal."

KL smiles, though it is still tired. "Thank you, Snakepatcher-yuf," she says. "Do you want me to dispose of that?" she gestures to the bag.

Reggie tilts his head, "Did you want it back? You could freeze it, and present it at the storytelling part of the moot. Get some Galliard to sing the tale, and show it about."

"That might be too much," KL says. "And it's not going anywhere near my food." She shakes her head. "But I will tell the tale to a galliard, and show them the head. Before it gets too rotten. Thank you."

Reggie gathers up the bag, and deposits it on the table next to the craft project, and steadies it from rolling off the table with a head. "Double-wrap it and the smell won't transfer to your food", he advises. He glances at KL's throat scar, and asks, "You are eating, aren't you? Got to keep your strength up for the little one."

KL looks grim. "I'm having some difficulty swallowing," she says, pointing to her throat. "But I've been drinking lots of milk - good for bones. I'll talk to my midwife when she comes." She stands up. "Double-wrapping is a good idea. Thank you."

Reggie nods briskly, "Good. Any more news? I'll be on my way to tell Kaz."

KL shakes her head. "No more news. Thank you again!"

The Uktena hauls himself out of the house, leaving behind a pregnant lady and a severed head.

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