==================================== Sept ==================================== Message: 5/37 Posted Author Found in the barn Tue Sep 6, 2005 Kevin ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ On one of the inside walls of the barn, a chalked drawing has appeared. It's a fairly crude sketch -- in more than one sense -- of a grinning one-eyed man in a compromising position with an ugly woman who appears to have four eyes. Under this caricature is chalked the caption FOUR LEGS GOOD - TWO LEGS BAD - ONE EYE NAUGHTY - FOUR EYES NAUGHTIER. ============================================================================== It is currently 17:36 Pacific Time on Tue Sep 6 2005. Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (20% full). Location: Safehouse It's half-past five in the evening, and Grey -- dressed for work in shirt and tie -- is just pulling into the drive in the dirt-brown Ford Torino. He digs his keys out of his pocket as he trudges up to the front door, looking tired and distracted by his own thoughts. Somewhat red in the face from jogging as far as her endurance will allow, Tamara arrives at the Walker safe house. Huffing and puffing, she approaches the Ford. "Grey," She half gasps. "A moment of your time." Grey, his hand on the doorknob, turns and blinks. Surprise soon gives way to a brow-furrowed frown. "...Of course." He nods toward the door. "Care for a glass of water?" "Please," Tamara pants, as she begins to regain her breath. "I came across something a few hours ago, that felt you should know about." Grey nods, the frown lingering. He holds the door open for her, letting her in first and then following her inside. You pass through the double doors off the front porch to enter the main part of the house. Safehouse: Common Area The foyer of this house is set off from the living room with its octagonal bump-out by a four foot high halfwall. Stairs lead up from the foyer, turning and disappearing to the right, and a wooden door with a keycard lock claims the wall opposite the living room. The rest of the main floor is taken up by a small bathroom across the hallway from a dining room which is separated from the kitchen at the back of the house by another half-wall. The decor is decidedly sparse - white walls, beige carpeting in the living and dining rooms and down the hall, unremarkable vinyl in the foyer and kitchen. A used couch and a pair of recliners are grouped around a coffee table in the living room, with a foursome of wooden chairs claiming the bump out for quieter conversation. The dining room boasts a white laminate table with four aluminum and vinyl-upholstered chairs - too new to be 'vintage', too old to be trendy. The appliances and cupboards in the kitchen are new - or at least refurbished to look like it - and a door leads out to the backyard from there. Up the stairs are a number of empty rooms where anyone affiliated with the Sept can crash and an office for private meetings. The Glass Walkers have their own area accessible via a locked door off the foyer. The main doors themselves lead back out to the front porch of the house. Tamara wipes some of the sweat from her face, as she follows the Walker inside. Grey invites the Strider to sit with a gesture and a, "Have a seat, I'll be right back," and then heads further into the house toward the kitchen area to fetch a glass of ice water. No further inquiry until he's brought the cold drink and handed it over, and that just a mild, "When you're ready." Tamara downs the water rather quickly and clearly feels far better afterward. Clearing her throat, the Mule begins. "It seems that someone has decided to draw a rather large picture in chalk, on the inside of the barn. It appears to be a picture of you and I, having sex. There were words scribbled around the picture: 'Two legs bad, four legs better, and one eye naughty, four eyes naughtier.'" Whatever Grey was expecting, it wasn't that, obviously. Still standing, the Philodox looks at her for a moment, completely motionless. Rigid, even. "...Say again?" Tamara repeats her previous words, own form rather rigid. While keeping her calm, the Walker is not the only one who is angry. Tamara is a tall woman and just under six feet in height, with a heavyset body. She is wearing a pair of well-worn blue jeans, with frayed hems and torn knees. Her upper body is covered in a red t-shirt, while her lower in a pair of ratty blue jeans. Overly large hands are decorated with several cheap bits of gaudy jewelry: plastic, tin, and pewter. A wide brimmed white Stetson hat tops a head that seems to be somewhat malformed. The woman's face is longer then usual and her skull seem to be too big. Her lower jaw is huge and gives Tamara a painfully noticeable underbite. Small beady brown eyes are set too far apart and her nose is set too high on her face. Giving her appearance of someone with a 'mental disability'. Grey breathes slowly, in and out. Inhale, exhale, like a man giving a mental count to ten. "Basil, I'd bet," he says at last, his voice flat. "Or one of his friends." His eyes narrow. "I assume he /has/ friends." Tamara lifts her hands. "If he does, I do not know who they are. I may have torn out his tongue, but we could still make him write down their names. That is, if he did not do it himself." Grey rakes his hair back with one hand and curses in soft Serbian. "So much for a quiet evening," he grumbles. "Well." He jingles his keys. "I can give you a ride back, and we can go try to find him, if you're up for it. I know the Questing Stone, if he's hiding." "A ride would be greatly appreciated," Tamara replies, as she stands. "I have no objections to looking for him now. I want to know who drew that, so I can tear them apart." Grey's mouth twists into a grimace. "Right," he grunts, and then stalks toward the front door, keys jingling in hand. Tamara follows the walker, lapsing into a silence that is retained for the majority of the drive. You paged the room with 'Shall we @tel to the Lane?'. Lane(#300RJ) Stretching a good quarter mile from the road, this gravel lane leads back to the Escrowe farm. Trees line the lane, leaves filling out on the limbs to fill the sky with fresh green clouds. In the distance, the farmhouse looms above the treetops, gleaming white as the snow from its yearly coat of paint. Silence prevails here, save for the rustling of the tall grasses in the fields when the wind blows. The front entrance to the farmhouse is on the porch alongside the gravelled road which continues on around the eastern side of the house back to the barnyard. The opposite end of the lane turns back west to empty out onto Sunrise Road. Getting out of the car, Tamara stretches to loosen stiff muscles. "That /thing/ is still in the barn, if you care to see it for yourself." Grey's car still has the lingering smell of cigarettes, and its owner drives in stony, scowling quiet. Soon enough, gravel rattles under the four tires as he parks near the farmhouse and gets out. "No, I--" He stops, eyes narrowing at a thought. "Yes. Yes, I do." With little more then a hand gesture, Tamara makes her way toward the barn and disappears inside. [...] Big Red Barn(#3420RA) The barn is built in the old style, a vast three level structure that is greater in height than a mere three stories, actually closer to five. Great wooden posts support the weight of the upper levels and roof, sunk into the hard-packed dirt floor of the first level like a sparse forest of regularly spaced, naked trees. The stalls and flagstones which once were here have been torn out to leave a rather open area where even crinos Garou may roam freely without fear of running into anything but the supports or the walls or the ladder at the back which allows access to the other two levels. The first two levels are relatively open to each other, the second being only little wider than a catwalk going around all the walls but the front one, which has massive, twenty foot tall doors set into it. The third level is a true second floor except for a place cut out that allowed hay to be tossed down to the ground floor when the farm was actually worked. Now, it is a hayloft where Garou can sleep outside of the house. True to her word, Bug hasn't left the barn. In fact, she's barely moved at all, except to cross to the offending wall and curl up like an extremely oversized guard dog. The metis cub isn't sleeping--her eyes are quite visibly open, still slightly narrowed with the lingering temper that's the result of both her form, her auspice, and the scrawled drawing above her. Tamara steps into the barn with Grey on her heels. Her annoyance and anger clearly building, she shows Grey the 'artwork' on the wall. Grey's nostrils flare as he stalks over toward the picture, giving Bug barely a glance. He stands and stares at it for several long moments, hands in pockets, before turning back to Tamara. "Have you checked it for scent?" Tamara shakes her head. "I did not." Grey grunts. Turning back to the wall, he stretches slowly up into Crinos, slacks and shirt melting into thick black fur. Careful not to touch anything, the Glass Walker examines the area, his nose working visibly. After a few seconds, he steps back and shrinks back down. "Can't tell." He scowls at the crude scribbling. Tamara grunts loudly. "Shall we find Basil and ask him if he is responsible for this?" Bug scoots backwards as Grey approaches, eyeing both he and Tamara carefully as they discuss the drawing. The door opens, then shuts, allowing a leather-clad Native man to slip inside and begin walking towards the group gathered inside. His eyes gravitate to the drawing, expression showing no reaction besides interest as he moves inside. Grey glares at the drawing some more, then nods curtly, just as Touch Deer enters the barn. Glancing over, he eyeballs the Wendigo for a moment before asking, rather brusquely, "Do you have any idea who did this?" Bug continues to scoot back, until she's back into a crouching position. She looks up at the scrawling, chuffs, and states darkly, ~That is very, very BAD. Gross.~ This is a beast out of someone's nightmares, a nine-foot tall wolf-like monster with auburn fur and muddy green eyes that seem to blaze with some inborn fury. About halfway down the torso, a second pair of arms sprout, except these are quite short.../ridiculously/ short, in fact, being only two feet and some change in length each. And while the arms are furred like the rest of her body, they are also extremely thin, with no claws to be seen on the ill formed fingers, and a noticeable space where the middle finger should be. Her coat, while definitely shaggy-looking, nevertheless appears clean and well kept. Tamara shakes her head grimly. "I already asked her that. She has been making certain that no one removes it, for now." Touch Deer scrinches his face, a mixture of frown, attentive studying, and confusion. "Ah, no. What does it...say?" He begins to move to the drawing as his hands shoo Grey and Tamara away from it. His eyes go down. "There's at least a dozen different tracks here. Damnit." But he begins to lower himself to the ground, bending at his waist to peer closer at the hard-packed dirt floor in front of the drawing, obviously studying the tracks visible there. Opening up the doors and heading into the barn is Brom, the newly minted Master of the Challenge. He has a rather large looking bandage over his side, wrapped up tight, and his war hammer strapped to the back of his chest. At the sight of the angry Garou, he pauses for a moment, silent, arms crossing over his broad chest as he waits for enlightenment. Grey moves back at Touch Deer's gesture. The Walker's face is stony, and his body language thrums with repressed anger, the kind that starts small and builds to an inevitable explosion. He glowers at the chalk scribbling and reads it out for the Wendigo. "'Four legs good, two legs bad. One eye naughty, four eyes naughtier.'" He spits out a few ugly-sounding words in Serbian. Bug adds to Grey's recital, ~It is very bad.~ In case Touch Deer missed that the first time, perhaps. She finally rolls one shoulder back and shifts downward, sluggishly, to homid, where her expression is intensely wrinkled, and nostrils flared wide. A glance, equally wary, is given toward Brom as he enters. Tamara's nostrils flare as she glares at the drawing, before turning away from it. "Someone must think that this is funny, but they won't once I get my hands on them." The Strider is surprisingly cold, each word slightly clipped. Touch Deer bends completely over at the waist, knees bent, head about a foot from the floor. Wordless, his eyes examine the four square feet in front of the drawing. Brom looks over to the drawing, then over to Tamara and Grey. His nose wrinkles up quickly and a look of disgust falls over his features. "What the fuck is this?" He asks as he looks once more back to the drawing, then glares heavily. "Why did someone put that there for?" Grey says nothing, though the way he's absently cracking his knuckles while watching Touch Deer at work suggests that Tamara's not alone in her sentiment. Tamara scowls nastily. "Well, the only person I may have annoyed lately is Basil. Him, or one of his friends probably did this. That is, if he has any friends." Bug hugs her arms, both sets, to her chest and frowns. "Cub Ba-sil?" She looks back to the drawing, squints, and begins chewing on the inside of her cheek. "I can guarantee you that it was not Basil." Brom says matter of factly. "He and I sparred last night and lets just say that he is not even able to move, or draw something on a wall. I tore off half his face and I'll be surprised if he gets it back. I killed him during our match and Gaia brought him back, probably as a joke. He's laid up with Gauntlet Runner at the moment and I don't think she'd do something this stupid." The Forseti pauses for a moment. "Scent on the wall?" Touch Deer shifts. He cycles up and then back down in size, taking four legs and then slowly stepping from the painting to the door, nose swiveling in various diretions at ground-level. His ears and tail twitch as as he makes loud breathing sounds, examining scents throughout the barn. "Checked that," Grey tells Brom, giving the big Get a sidelong look. "Couldn't tell anything. But..." He nods to indicate Touch Deer. "I'm not the expert." Tamara grunts. "Do we know who Basil's friends are?" Bug's attention is now visibly shifting back and forth between Brom and Touch Deer. Her eyes widen considerably at Brom's information, and she hunches down even further against the wall. One finger joins her cheek in the chew-a-thon. She's biting hard, but any damage that might be done is healing too fast to really see. Brom grits his teeth hard. ".. He seems to be friends with my cub, Poe." He rumbles heavily in his throat, then starts to pace. "So help me God, if that little fuck.." His snarl rips through his throat. "If he did this, I'll fucking kill him tonight." Touch Deer shifts back up and lays his hands out to everyone. He's collected and calm, not the bit upset in tone or gesture. "There have been a dozen or so people in and out of here today, nearly all of whom have walked up to the wall at some point. The painting itself doesn't bear a strong scent. I'm afaid I cannot determine the artist." "Fucking cubs," mutters Grey. "Fucking pissant idiot cubs." He rubs his knuckles, grimacing with disappointment at Touch Deer's news. "Even if Basil didn't do it, he might know who did. I'll be able to tell if he lies." Tamara's teeth grit, fingers twitching. "I say we ask Basil who his friends are and which ones he thinks may have done this. He might not have a tongue right now, but he can sure as hell write." The acrid smells of wet wolf and burning tobacco penetrate the barn air as Reggie evades a rainshower by entering the barn. He rubs off the water from his head, and his teeth clench on his cigarette, as he squints, eyes adjusting to the interior of the barn, to make out the others within. Bug gives up on the finger. She curls her knuckles into her mouth instead and bites down very hard. Her eyes flick from Touch Deer, to Brom, to Touch Deer again--and then to Reggie as he enters. Once again, her nostrils flare, and she goes very still. With a controlled breath, Brom rumbles in his throat. "I say we do this with a bit of tact, instead of rushing him and thus, making the situation worse. For all we know, he may not know a damn thing. I know that he hangs out with the other Gnawer, Mad Dog.. My cub..." He trails off in thought. "But, if there is no scent on the wall, at least not a strong one that can be identified with the chalk, that would possibly point out a Garou with some 'skill'." Touch Deer begins to slowly nod. "Brom has it right. The artist was able to leave no scent whatsover. Even good de-scenting means would not be able to fool /my/ nose. The artist was a Ragabash." Grey turns to look at Brom, then Touch Deer, going otherwise quite still, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Ragabash. Who is Basil friends with who's a Ragabash and not a cub? Besides Yi. She has better taste than..." He gestures sharply at the drawing. "...this." Tamara simply scowls, falling silent. She either has no clue, or is thinking really hard. Brom begins to tick off. "Rusty, Jervis, Eamon, Horace, Tu and Kevin." With each name, a finger comes out in thought. "Rusty and Basil seemed to be 'friendly', if you know what I mean. Horace is ass backwards right now. Eamon knows better, and Kevin and Tu are your family." He hardens his gaze. "I have never seen Tu out here before, at least not unless it was important." Reggie's eyebrows bristle as they draw together as he studies the group in conversation. He slowly turns his head to see their focus, the chalk drawing, and his eyebrows raise so high as to vanish into his scars. He steps over with an eager pace to get a better view of the drawing, all else forgotten. Grey's nostrils flare. "Kevin," he says quietly, "is, I believe, no stranger to drawing stupid things on walls." One hand closes slowly into a fist. Suddenly, the whole breathing-calmly-and-slowly thing seems to have become a little more difficult. What a wonderul night, right? Sure, if you're a Silver Fang Galliard. Andy comes wandering rather nonchalantly and likely entirely cluessly to the scene that awaits him, into the barn. Over his back is slung what to the well practiced would recognise as an English "Bastard" sword and the other hand bears a bottle of Pepsi. Bug practically scrambles backwards as Reggie approaches, her stillness broken by the desire to get away from the Uktena just as fast as possible. Her knuckles remain firmly pinched by her teeth as she moves. Touch Deer drops into the background of the comotion, arms crossing as he leans up against one wall. "I thought Kevin only drew on the wall when he was walking around with the ice wolf controlling him?" Brom asks Grey with a frown. "Also, he wouldn't do something like this, not over some fucking dipshit cub. Isn't he scared of you?" Tamara turns her head and spits onto the Barn floor. "Well, how about we just ask him and find out?" Grey's face twists into a snarl. "I wouldn't put anything past that pissant little shit," he replies to Brom. "I /doubt/ he was being ancestor-ridden when he wrote 'bad dog' on my goddamn bedroom wall. We'd /finished/ with that fucking issue." Reggie passes by Bug with hardly a glance, as he maneveurs around the others for a good view of the picture. His teeth draw back in an appreciative grin as he studies the picture, then he slowly turns to regard the Strider and Walker. His grin grows tighter, lopsided, with cigarette hanging from the twisted closed side, as he measures their mood. You paged Reggie with 'High anger levels from both. Potentially violent.'. Bug continues scrambling, right until she's made it to the opposite wall, where she once more drops into a crouch and eyes the gathered Garou as a whole. A curious looking Michael rounds the corner of the barn and opening the door, peers inside. A wicked looking stone dagger at the ready in the hand not used to open the door. He steps in, and pulls the door shut again behind him. The young Wendigo Ahroun remains quiet for now. Touch Deer begins to move towards the door, apparently done with his involvement. He makes no specific farewells, but ducks his head in a general goodbye before exiting. Michael has apparently yet to notice the picture, more watching the gathered people. Andy perks up some at the small gathering over by the wall and heads promptly in that direction. Curiousity getting the best of him apparently, his task at hand is forgotten for the moment and he edges in to get a good look at the adorable little bit of art everyone is eyeing. After a bit of studying it and a sip of his soda he comments, "Well isn't that fucking cute." Rather suddenly, Tamara shifts into her birth form and all but charges at Reggie. ~Get that fucking grin off your face!~ The normally calm and controlled Strider seems to be loosing her cool. "Wipe that grin off your face before I tear it off for you, Uktena." Brom says with a quick snap. "This is not funny, this is an /accusation/ of the worst crime. Whoever drew this is obviously accusing of you being a charach, again, Thomas, and that Tamara is a willing participant. I am not going to let this go quietly." He rocks his shoulders back and then heads for the door. "I am going to question Basil and Poe, and then seek out my pack mate. No one kill anyone until -I- tell them to, if it comes to that." He states with an authorative rumble in his throat. "This is now buisness." Michael steps up now at Brom's rather strong statement and finally it dawns on him just what everyone was looking at. He stares at the drawing, and looks rather contemplative. Eventually he just says in sincere tone, "This is supposed to be a joke?" His expression is straight, unimpressed, and perhaps a touch of confused. Once more, Tamara's shift to crinos inspires a similar reaction in Bug, even though she's well out of the way with where she's chosen to crouch. The metis ends up hunched over, fur bristled, all four fists clenched, and teeth bared. Her eyes squeeze shut as she releases a heavy, furious breath. Grey twitches visibly as Tamara shifts up and goes for Reggie, but somehow the volatile Walker keeps to his birth form. His mismatched eyes narrow at Brom, staring at the big Get consideringly before jerking his head into a nod. Spider-Eyes is a creature out of nightmare, a nine-foot tall black werewolf with massive paws and hands that are tipped with wickedly sharp claws. An impressive scar mars the Crinos' left shoulder, where no fur grows. As if that wasn't bad enough, the creature is clearly some sort of mutant: her head is painfully unnatural, with an oversized skull and four eyes instead of two. The lower pair of eyes are normal, while the upper pair are enough to give one nightmares. The pupils are slitted like those of a cat, while the irises are a sickly and almost fluorescent yellow-green. The eyes' outer sclera are the red of freshly spilt blood. Due to the werewolf's overly large skull, Spider's ears rest on the side of her head. Much like her feet, the werewolf's ears are overly large and almost (but not quite) bat-like in nature and droop under their own weight. The creature's lower jaw is larger then it should be, giving her a nasty underbite. Reggie's large form shakes, and he clamps his still grinning teeth shut, struggling to keep silent. He braces, with feet apart and hands raised to mid chest level, as he turns to face the enraged Strider's charge, but even the prospect of being attacked doesn't damage his mood. ~You won't be able laugh once I tear off your fucking jaw!~ Spider-Eyes all but screams, as crinos claws reach for Reggie's face. ~Spider-Eyes, stand down!~ The Get erupts into the Crinos form quickly as he rocks his shoulders backwards, grasping the large war hammer that slips up and out of dedication. ~*Now!* This is not the time to be acting like idiots! Get a fucking grip!~ He looks to knock the Strider off balance with a hard shove of his shoulder as he blurs forward, aiming to put himself in front of the Uktena. Andy errs apparently on the side of caution, stepping the heck out of the way when things get just a little violent. The Fang, instead saying of more, turns and screws the cap onto his soda. Jaw pulling tight, he pulls himself out of the small scene entirely and instead begins stacking hay bales in a less populated section of the barn. Grey's head snaps around toward Spider-Eyes and Reggie, his good eye flaring from brown to gold, his teeth bared and looking rather too sharp to be properly human. But though he quivers with amount of anger pounding in his temples, he keeps his ground and does not explode into violence like the Strider. Bug isn't quite so fortunate. She's a distance away from the others, which at the very least might give a half second warning--but her eyes lose any hint of sanity, and as Brom erupts into crinos she releases a furious shriek and launches herself wildly at the nearest Garou. Michael steps forward and takes on the crinos form. With a grunt timed with each giant step he comes forward towards Bug, trying to leap upon the metis before it is too late. Reggie's form convulses with shakes that double in intensity as he grows into the Glabro form, hands held up in front of him in a token of defense. His eyes water, as he watches the angered Strider joined by the Get. When Bug leaps madly, Reggie adruptedly twists aside, clasping hands over his mouth, muffling his sounds as he stumbles for the barn door. Touch Deer suddenly comes back inside, swiftly shutting the door behind him and standing in front of it the moment Bug's shriek occurs. Grey curses again in his parents' native tongue and shifts up into Glabro form, turning toward the fracas centered around Tamara and Brom, pointed teeth still bared in a deadly-looking snarl. Bug twists furiously on Michael with open jaws and bared teeth. She claws at him in blind fury with all four hands, even though her lower two are both weak and completely clawless. Her movements are blurred, clearly Rage fueled, but there is no real direction for the onslaught. She's merely aiming at whatever is nearest and catches her attention. Forath-Ripper's rather large form collides with Spider-Eyes and sends the Strider skittering for several feet, as Raggie makes a run for it. It takes less then a heartbeat for the Strider to right herself and chases after Reggie with Rage driven speed. This speed carries her past both Brom and Grey, her entire focus on the Uktena. A clawed hand lashes out, wrapping around Reggie's neck and lifts him off the ground, even as she skids past him. Reggie suddenly finds his face held a mere inch from Tamara's, as she roars and spittle flies everywhere. Kills-Wisely pretty much, once in position, falls on Bug. He is all business, as usual in a fight before he recieves any kind of major injury. His hands attempt to force Bug's arms down to the ground and legs seek to entangled with the Metis'. Given he is successful, it looks disturbingly similar to the picture on the wall. Then Kills-Wisely just raises his forehead to smash it down into Bug's head as often as possible until hopefully he finds an unconscious metis beneath him. His actions, though fast, look more like they are powered by the focusing of will than the flow of rage. ~Spider Eyes, if you kill him, you will face the steel and claws of Requiem's son at your throat!~ Forath-Ripper roars out as he wheels around, his hammer dangerously spinning about in his hands in an expert manner, advancing upon the pair, eyes narrowed. ~Drop the fat fuck!~ Touch Deer shifts with a commanding shout of irritation at the scene unfolding. His shadow seems to stretch up the wall behind him and onto the ceiling, his eyes grow dark and begin to shimmer with raw Rage. His mane flies behind him and his voice is lower by a full octave, ~Everyone stand down, NOW!~ From afar, to the room, Touch Deer turns on True Fear. Forath-Ripper pages to the room: Who are you targeting? :D Touch Deer pages to the room: No one, just trying to be scary. Spider-Eyes pages to the room: True fear only stops an opponent from atacking the user of the gift, according to the book. From afar, to the room, Forath-Ripper nods. "Yeah, not so much an area effect :) This Native American man reaches nearly seven feet in height, and every inch of his massive frame looks to be hard, compact muscle. His face is almost bestial looking, with a large nose and a thick, overhanging brow. His hair is wild, unkempt, and reaches down to just below his shoulders. His ears are slightly pointed, and his eyes are a rich black that glisten with perceptibility. His skin is a ruddy bronze color, ocasionally darkening to a deep brown near his hands and feet. His arms are a little too long, swaying alongside his knees almost, and so thick around that they could almost be a normal person's legs. Each hand is broad and hairy, ending in a thick finger that is tipped by a dark brown, overlong fingernail...or is it a claw? his clothes are uniformly constructed of deerskin and are tailored in the traditional way of the Lipan Apache (+detail Clothes) and he sports a peculiar necklace that is always worn around his thick neck (+detail Necklace). However, his visible body parts (upper chest, arms, and hands) are gruesome to look at, as they are heavily scarred; obviously this hulk of a man nearly died from burn wounds sometime in the recent past. When he speaks, his voice is very low, sometimes making it hard to understand him. His canines are longer than they should be, and they help to enhance the overall impression that this man is more feral than most. All this wild violence, free flowing rage, and the Silver Fang is on a completely different planet. After a temporary shift to Glabro to aid in ease of bale-stacking, Andy has himself a small tower of bales stacked like Zenga. He places his soda down nearby, unsheathes his sword with an unimpressive ring of freed steel, and begins warming up. Wierdass Fangs. Touch Deer pages to the room: Just ignore it if you like then, *nods*. Grey breathes heavily, thick black hair hanging in his now-brutish face. He looks far too feral, right now, for a man in a button-up shirt, pressed slacks, and necktie. He's a huge brute of a man, well over seven feet tall, broad-shouldered and exceedingly muscular but, judging from his appearance, barely human. His face is lean, bony, and feral, with a heavy shelf of brow and an out-thrust jaw; sharp fingernails, pointed ears, and overlong canine teeth add to the general impression of animalistic menace. The left side of his face is disfigured by a number of prominant scars, thick keloid tissue making a ruin of already thuggish features. Under heavy, hairy black eyebrows, his deep-set eyes -- the left blind white, the right wolfishly gold -- are often shadowed as though from lack of sleep. His thick, shaggy black hair brushes near his shoulders, often hanging messily in his face. There's grey at the temples, visible if one inspects closely. There's grey in the few days' worth of stubble on his face, too, around the mouth. He's dressed for work in a white button-up shirt, a black necktie, and a pair of black trousers. However, the scuffed black combat boots, coupled with their owner's general appearance, give an image more akin to a Reservoir Dog than a corporate drone. Reggie sprays spittle as he's adruptedly face to face with Tamara, staring into these weird double set of eyes. He clasps his hands over Tamara's arm, and his weight doubles, tightening her grip, by his transformatino into the WArform. His voice squeaks out, as he struggles to speak without more sputtering, ~It's--it's not~, then, giving up on speech, he tightens his hands about Tamara's arm, tendons budging as his hands close tight. Bug flails, but Michael's precision outdoes her mad lashing. Within the space of half a minute, the metis cub has been both restrained and laid out cold, though not before she gets in a few nasty lashes at the Wendigo's face. When all is said and done, she's motionless, still in her birthform. Spider-Eyes pretty well ignores Brom, all of her attention focused on Reggie. Her free hand is raised threateningly toward the Uktena's eyes. ~I will not stand for you laughing at something that insults my HONOR!~ Tamara snaps. ~You will apologize now, or I will Challenge you for your insult. Then, you can get involved,~ The Strider tacks on, briefly looking over at Brom with those upper set of eyes. Forath-Ripper lets out a tight breath as his chest swells, rises, then falls. He waits, almost eagerly as he is brought into the conversation. Touch Deer stands at the door, arms at his sides, eyes focuses steadily on the scene in front of him. Andy gets about a quarter of the way into his warmup before his attention lock is finally broken. What with all the screaming, the roaring, bleeding, choking, clobbering, and what not he really can't help it. After a few more forced and practiced motions he huffs to himself and stops, turning to lean against the stacked hay and propping the sword on his shoulder. For the moment a Galliard actually doesn't say anything, impressive. Grey's expression suggests that he hopes that Reggie doesn't apologize; there's a violent, bloodthirsty look in that one good eye. ~It's not--~, Rags attempts again, breath short from the effort of holding in spasms, and he shifts his grip on Tamara's arm. He finds his feet on the ground, and, with the leverage, shoves at Tamara. ~N-n-not funny!~, he struggles out. Lacking more breath for words, he indicates readiness for battle with his stance and bright eyes. Touch Deer promptly ducks back out, perhaps unnoticed as he quickly exits amid the ruckus. Andy takes TD's example at this point, sheathing his sword, taking his drink, and vanishing out the doors likely to practice elsewhere. ~That was not an apology,~ Spider-Eyes snaps. ~I Challenge you for your actions and clearly finding amusement in something that so clearly insults my Honor.~ Releasing Rags' neck, the Strider tries to push him back as far as possible at the same time, with a shove of her arm. ~What are your terms?~ Rags bends down slightly, angling his head as not to see the chalk marks, and his breath eases. He straightens back up, too determined to not look at the chalk drawing to be able to focus on the Strider. ~Find me tomorrow~, he gasps, then, if unimpeded, resumes his walk for the barn door. ~Why don't you just fucking apologize, Coward? For you are in the wrong here. Don't make /me/ set terms.~ The Forseti says with a loud growl in his throat. Bug begins to stir. She gives the crinos equivilent of a groan and lifts a clawed hand to her forehead. Her eyes remain shut, but they're clenched tightly. Spider-Eyes lifts up a hand to quiet Brom. ~And that is why I am challenging him. He can have until tomorrow to set his terms.~ Grey's mouth twists into an expression of disgust. "Fat sack of shit," he rumbles. One meaty hand comes up to loosen his necktie. Rags grips the edges of the door, shifting down into the homid, before opening it. He turns, at his name. "Going to find another place without--", he worlessly jerks his head towards the drawing, eyes diverted away from it. "Right now, you need to investigate that", he manages longer sentences now that he's not looking at the drawing. "And tomorrow, terms." He indicates Tamara, then steps out of the door. Now that there is no blood shed, the Forseti shifts down into the homid and straps his hammer once more across his back. "I am going to speak to Basil and see what I can glean from him. I know where both of you stay at so I will be in touch immediately. Someone get the drawing off the wall. I wish to make this investigation in the dark. The less people that know, the easier it will be for me to catch others by surprise and thus, the truth will flow easier." He lumbers for the door, fingers coiling and uncoiling into fists. Bug flops for a moment, and then rolls onto her stomach. There's an abrupt shift down to homid, though like before, it's sluggish, almost reluctant, but it's complete. She turns bleary eyes onto the now very reduced population of the barn. Spider-Eyes scowls and shakes her head, turning to look at Grey. ~Let me know if this Kevin is involved. If he is. I want a piece of him.~ Grey takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring, and shifts back down to homid as he exhales. "I'm sure," he says, with a partially-successful attempt to keep his voice even, "that can be arranged." He turns his eye over toward Brom. "I assume that you'll be taking point on this?" Spider-Eyes slips back down into homid and still looking quite annoyed, prepares to leave. "I am going for a run," she announces, then tips her hat toward those gathered. "Luna light your path." With that, the Strider turns and leaves. "As the Master of the Challenge for the Sept, I feel that this is something I will need to personally deal with." Brom rumbles as he heads for the door, grasping it and tugging it open as he takes a deep, calming breath of the cool air. "No one will speak further word of this incident to anyone outside of this Barn. Lets keep that crystal clear. Until I am done with my investigation. I do not want the offender catching wind of this. You are honor bound in staying quiet." With that, he slips out and starts for the woods. Bug clasps her upper arms over her knees. Her eyes follow Brom as he leaves, and an extra wrinkle appears on her forehead. Grey, left alone with Bug, turns to the young Metis. "Can I count on you to clean up that filth?" He nods toward the offensive drawing. Bug grunts. "Yes." Her gaze appears to be avoiding the drawing itself, however, in much the same way she's also avoiding anything above Grey's shoulders. "Will clean." Grey's lips tighten as he tries to force a smile, just for a second before giving it up. His anger's too close to the surface. He does manage a, "Thank you," that sounds sincere and -- considering his mood -- almost pleasant. Then he turns and stalks out of the barn. ==================================== Sept ==================================== Message: 5/38 Posted Author Barn Cleanup! Tue Sep 6, 2005 Bug ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The aforementioned drawing has been scrubbed free from the barn's wall--so well, and so hard, in fact, that there's a significantly lighter area in a roughly circular shape where the chalk drawing used to be. Someone used definite elbow grease. ==============================================================================