Iron-Raven

Tue 03:39PM

He sits outside the old, weather-beaten shack. Kudzu had almost overtaken the small house, and the underbrush was overgrown, almost completely concealing its entire presence. Weeds and small plants had almost completely overtaken the small driveway that wound through the woods to the place. It was a forgotten place. Forgotten by all except Luke, that is.

Anton Krajner

Tue 03:44PM

Midnight. The swamps. The forests. The crickets. The oppressive nighttime heat, which somehow seems worse than the sun and the heathaze of the day. Night's a time for coolness and rest. When it's 80 degrees out still with 90% humidity, rest isn't an option. Bullfrogs croak and nightcritters stalk. Garou wade through blackwater and mud onto dry earth and fallen foliage, all the way to the land time's forgotten to speak of the future.

All the future they had left. War and bloodshed. The inevitable end: Ragnarok, the rain of dust.

"Nice place." Different t-shirt now. Jeans and boots still, though. Not stupid enough to go wandering around in the lowcountry with bare feet. At night. He finds himself a decent rock to sit on and cinches his shoelaces tighter. "What's the deal?"

Iron-Raven

Tue 03:54PM

A small fire burns in a rock-ringed pit in front of Luke. He's sitting on what's left of the small porch, the rest having fallen in. Dressed in combat boots, jeans and a tight gray t-shirt with the word "TapouT" on the front, the Godi looks up at the voice.

"It aint tha Ritz, but it does well 'nuff fer me."

Rising from his perch, he stands and heads toward the Modi, hand out to shake.

"Deal is we gotta figure out what we gotta do."

Anton Krajner

Tue 04:01PM

Anton grins. "No, it's not even a Motel-6. But if it's yours and just yours, I can see the appeal."

He doesn't shake the hand; he clasps over it, gripping the forearm firmly without squeezing. Hold. Eye contact is firm without challenge. Release.

"Rebuild. When I left this place the Fenrir were a power to be reckoned with in the sept. Now we're scattered and gone, or dead. You seen Skins-the-Weak lately?"

Iron-Raven

Tue 04:07PM

And he does the same, grasping the forearm in a tight grip and making eye contact before releasing.

"Nah. He took off. Had ta go back ta Germany when his father died. He prob'bly aint comin' back. An' Joe's dead. Blood-Law is still tha Warder, an' she's got her Guardians. But I'm thinkin' it's time fer tha Fenrir ta show what we're made of..."

Anton Krajner

Tue 04:13PM

A shake of his head. "Too bad about Skins. But that leaves you as tribal elder now, doesn't it?"

A nod. He leans to the side and eases a stem of grass out of its sheath, toying with it between his blunt fingers. "Yeah. Blood-Law's Warder, but we're as good at striking as we are at defending." Lopsided grin. "Better.

"Anyone else in the area?"

Iron-Raven

Tue 04:22PM

A nod at the first comment. Grunting, he shakes his head to the second.

"Not that I know of. Right now, we're runnin' by ourselves."

Anton Krajner

Tue 04:27PM

"Doesn't bother me. Let's rustle up something to kill. Come back with a bang. Word'll spread that the Get of Great Fenris have come home and they'll come flockin' back."

The tender stem of grass, the lower portion that had been shielded from the elements and the sun, slides between his teeth. He leans back on the rock on one elbow, cocking his ankle up on the opposite knee, the other tanned hand stabilizing the blade of grass. He could be a farmhand from the big rectangular states, tousled sun-streaked hair and an air of lazy devil-may-care. Or he could be what he is, rock-born child of the Oregonian coast, blue eyes flint-hard and white teeth straight and deadly.

"We gonna keep the pack just Fenrir like last time?"

Iron-Raven

Tue 04:32PM

A nod at that.

"We take any who measure up. Here's tha plan. We got territory..."

Holding his hands out to both sides, he grins.

"That's done. We start here. Make sure it's clean. Then we strike elsewhere. Wherever we hear 'bout some fuckin' Wyrmthings, we take 'em out. If a Garou goes rogue, we hunt 'im down. If we don't hear about shit, we go out'n find it. We gotta get our kin organized. More eyes'n'ears we got, tha better."

The grin grows wider, more feral.

"We'll be like a fuckin' tactical airstrike."

Anton Krajner

Tue 04:39PM

His loose grip on the blade of grass releases. It droops. He scrubs his knuckles through his haphazard haircut. "Yeah. Fight with you and run the Umbra with me. Other way 'round and no one'll ever get in."

He takes a glance around. Nods once, quick and curt. "Anyone know we took this land? Gotta stand up and yap about it at the moot, I guess." Then, "Kin - there any left?"

And a snorting chuckle. "I like it. But I'm not wearing no superhero tights.

"Whatcha think of the Grand Elder? Never met him. Heard he was a fucking Coggie," the tone says the only thing worse would be a Black Fury manhater, "in a Sept of War."

Iron-Raven

Tue 04:46PM

Nodding to point about fighting and running the Umbra for new inductees, the Godi shrugs at the first question.

"If they don't, then they're fucked in tha head. I'll announce at the next Moot. As fer kin, yeah..there're a few 'round. Met a new one tha other day...Roxy Broccato. Hardass, like most of our men."

A smirk at the tights comment.

"Not again, eh?"

At the question of the GE, he sniffs and folds his thick arms over his chest.

"He aint like most Coggies. Got some balls, an' can fight like a motherfucker from what I hear. But he aint no damn Fenrir, and he's done some stupid shit. Overall, though, he's done a pretty good job as Grand Elder. Don't matter much ta us, though. We here to fight, not lead. We can leave that shit ta tha damn Fangs an' Coggies an' whoever else wants ta try it."

Anton Krajner

Tue 04:50PM

"I'll look for Broccato," Anton replies. "Get her to do the rest of the looking around for me. Heh."

Then the hand scrubbing his hair into a birdnest stops just long enough flip Luke off.

Settling again, "No shit. Question is, he leading us? We answering to him?"

Iron-Raven

Tue 05:00PM

A sniff.

"He's tha Grand Elder. As long as he's smart'n strong, we'll follow 'im. Otherwise, we go 'bout our business. Fact is, he don't generally get in yer business 'til somethin' goes down."

Rolling his head over his shoulders, he grunts and gestures at the shack.

"This is tha packhouse. It's ours, not mine. Yer welcome ta stay. This's where we work from."

Glancing up at the moon, he lets out a low growl.

"This's where it begins, Final-Dawn...."

His eyes come down to stare at Anton.

"...You ready?"

Anton Krajner

Tue 05:04PM

Pause. A stillness, feral, like a wolf poised in a silent forest catching that first scent of prey.

Man is the mask.
Wolf is the mask.
Garou is the truth.

He eases the blade of grass out. Flicks it aside and draws into a slow grin that wasn't quite a grin. By moonlight, it's closer to a showing of teeth.

"Of course."

Long after Iron-Raven's slipped off, he's still there on his rock, feeling the land breathe under his feet.

Iron-Raven

Tue 05:05PM

A nod. It begins.

"I'm gonna get some sleep. We start hunting down tha Jormangundr tomorrow."