Log edited with Logedit 2.6.6pl on Sun Aug 2 03:28:38 EDT 1998

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Davy grins. "Sure thing, man." He hands the younger man one of the bags, which clinks as it shifts. "Hey, I don't think I've caught your name."

Alex carefully slips his arms around the bag, one beneath to support it's weight, then turns and heads toward the kitchen counter. "Alex...Alexandras Rytis Ambrazevicius, if you want to get technical." He smiles, then starts putting things away after getting the sack into the kitchen proper.

Chases-Nothing smiles slightly, as he whips cans from the sack and slips them where they belong, blindingly fast. He leaves larger items, however, to the larger Garou.

Alex doesn't move nearly as quick, but he hefts items out of the sack with ease, moving with a simple economy of motion and unconscious preciseness as he puts the rest of the items away, moving around Chases deftly when needed.

There's not much variety in the two sacks. Some staples, five packets of fresh steak, and lots and lots of Guinness beer. "I'm Davy," offers the ragabash as the task is quickly finished. He grabs one of the bottles and sits down at the table.

Louisa is perched on a counter watching the trio of de-baggers with a smile. She offers, "I'm Lou. Halfmoon Child of Gaia." Her tone is faintly dry, as if she is recalling some joke.

Alex turns toward the rest of the room when he finishes, leaning agains the counter as he folds one of the bags. "Pleasure to meet you, Davy."

Chases-Nothing nods and smiles, a flash passing through his electric green eyes. "Drahcir Chases-Nothing. Good to meet ya."

Davy takes a drink of his beer before nodding at the other two in turn. He gives Lou a bit more introduction. "Gaian, huh? I'm Fianna, dark moon, pack Edge. Pleasure, my lady."

Chases-Nothing brightens a bit at Davy's title. "Fianna, Ragabash, huh? Good to meet you, tribemate... though I'm a half-moon."

Davy gives the cub another look. He smiles, suddenly. "Well met. How'd you get saddled with a name like Drahcir, though? I would have sworn you a Shadow Lord if you weren't in Technicolor."

Alex chuckles quietly. "No, that's me, the tall, dark, and exceedingly named one."

Chases-Nothing raises an eyebrow briefly. "Eh?" He darkens for a second, then blinks and says, "Technicolor. Yeah. Drahcir doesn't sound Irish to you?"

You say "Not to me, man, but I grew up in a hick town in Wyoming. About the most Irish thing I can claim other than my bloodline is the fact that I got rited in the old country." He gives the taller boy another look. "You're a Lord? What moon?"

Alex nods, and murmurs with a faint grin. "Da. Full Moon."

Chases-Nothing blinks and snaps his head around to look nervously at Alex. "Huh?" He shivers slightly and says, "Oh, Gaia! I'm sorry. Just had a few bad experiences with your tribe a loong time back..."

Davy's lips twitch. "Well, well," he murmurs, then he snaps, louder, "I know. And he doesn't look anything like him, either."

Alex quirk an eyebrow slightly at Chases, and says in a too-soft voice, "And it didn't illicit a reaction the first time I told you?" He then frowns faintly, looking between Chases and Davy. "Strangely, I feel out of the loop on something..."

Chases-Nothing glances up. "I'm just trying to get over my... well... jittery-ness. After all, the first and last Shadow Lord I've really met zorched me with a lightning fetish."

Alex's eyebrow stays up, though a slight grin appears on his face as well. "Well, the first Shadow Lord I ever met kept me in a cave and made me eat mice I caught myself for a month, but I try not to hold it against the rest of them..."

Davy takes another deep swig of his beer. "About any tribe can be right bastards, sometimes. I've even met obnoxious Children of Gaia, and that takes some doing." The Fianna seems to have regained his composure with his joke, and his greenish eyes crinkle above a quick grin.

In the front rooms, a figure can be heard comming down the stairs, singing softly beneath her breath, her gentle soprano murmuring the words of the song that seems to have been in her head the last few days. "It's Summertime and the livin is easy," her voice going low as the Gershwin tune flows from her throat, sweet and sultry, "Fish are jumpin and the cotton is high. Your daddy's rich and your mama's good-lookin, so don't cry baby, don't----" And the voice cuts off as she swings into the kitchen, blinking at the company. "Oh," Ada manages with a smile, obviously having just showered by the fresh clothes and almost dry hair in a braid, "Um, hi."

Chases-Nothing looks up at Ada with a grin and a flash of his bright eyes. "Hey, Ada! How's it going?"

Alex chuckles quietly, then glances up at the sound of feet on the stairs, watching Ada as she comes into the room singing. He grins a bit at her reaction, and slips a folded grocery bag onto the counter behind him. "Evenin'. I take it the shower did work better than the kitchen sink?"

Davy raises his eyebrows slightly at Ada, and his greeting to her is even more gallant than his words to Louisa. "And a fine afternoon to you, my lady."

Ada smiles and nods to Drahcir and then to Alex, "Hey y'all, it's goin. How've you been?" She smiles to the stranger, heading to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water before padding back on bare feet. "Oh yeah, felt great. Ran my best time ever today though!"

Alex smiles. "Congratulations. How fast?"

Chases-Nothing grins and raises an eyebrow. "In what form?" He winks. "Hey, Ada, guess what?"

"You too sir," Ada replies to the stranger, stepping back into the kitchen and towards him. "Ada Lynn Davis, Shines-Like-the-Sun, Galliard cub of the Silver Fangs, "she replies easily, holding out a hand. "Oh, lord, bout twenty minutes and something, it's written down upstairs."

"In homid, always in homid, and what hon?" Ada asks of Drahcir.

Chases-Nothing smiles and approaches Ada, moving onto his toes to reach the taller Garou's ear.

Davy takes it, and bends over it to brush it chastely with a closed-lips kiss. As he straightens, he offers his own, full introduction. "Davy Andrews, Wears-the-Woad, Fianna dark moon of pack Edge. You deserve your deed name, bright feather." He releases her hand then, letting it slip out of his rougher skin easily.

Ada smiles brightly, patting him on the back. "Congrats swee---oh," She is cut off by the kiss upon her hand, a faint flush touching her. "Um, thank you mister, um, Andrews, it's quite a pleasure."

Alex quirks an eyebrow silently at Davy, settling back against the counter to watch the scene.

Chases-Nothing smiles mildly as he sees Ada blush. "So, what's been going on? Anything, well, story-worthy? How's the music coming?"

Davy lets his smile widen, slightly. "The pleasure is mine, my lady." He then goes back to nursing his beer, letting Chases take the conversation.

Ada chuckles to herself, slowly withdrawing her hand and shrugging towards Alex. "Um, not much really. I'm to be rited soon I think. Scott's left and so I haven't been to town in too long. The music's, well, it's coming. I think I'm going to start over again. I'm getting discusted with orchestral arrangements. I'm thinking of going accapella with acompaniement in a few of the arias by Saxophone and flute, trumpet and percussion for the march."

Chases-Nothing brightens. "Wow! That would be cool... but for a march? Not physically?"

Alex blinks, and tilts his head to the side slightly. "What's wrong with orchestral arrangements?"

Ada sighs. "Well, nothing really except I'm having problems with the strings. The viola and cello parts are giving me fits and I absolutely can do nothing with harp and harpsichord. I would like to know how to write for bagpipes and tin whistle though."

Alex nods slowly, folding his arms over his chest. "Well...just wish I could help."

Chases-Nothing brightens visibly. "Bagpipes? Welll..." He turns and arches, implying mischievous thought. "If there was a way I could get in touch with my old Fianna Uncle in Birch Pool..."

Davy makes no effort to conceal his loss of interest in the conversation. His gaze flickers around the room and from face to face, restlessly.

Chases-Nothing darts his gaze between those present. "Hey, it was great meeting you all... I've gotta scat though. See you later..." With a very brief wave, he zips out the nearest egress. Chases-Nothing slides open the door in the kitchen, passing through into the back yard.

Alex blinks, and stares at the door Chases just ran through. "Uh...okay..." He shrugs to himself, then looks back at Ada. "Don't suppose there's anything I can do to help, is there? Being the musical equivelant of a wet sock?"

Ada chuckles. "Can you carry a tune? You look like a baritone."

Steven slips inside the farmhouse, rubbing his hands together. He glances around the kitchen for only a second before he helps himself to the fridge.

There's fresh beer and fresh steak inside. Davy grins at the back of the Blackwatch galliard before greeting him.

Alex frowns for a moment, then shrugs. "Honestly? I've no clue. Never tried."

Ada looks at her watch. "Well look, I gotta get goin too. I've got lessons over at the estate. But I'll talk to you about it, okay? You teach me your language, I'll teach you music." She grins and winks, reaching up to hug him before nodding to Davy and Steven and trotting out. Ada slides open the door in the kitchen, passing through into the back yard.

Steven selects one of the beers. He turns his attention over his shoulder. One eyebrow is arched over his eyepatch at Davy. He closes the fridge slowly and cracks open the beer. "What was that all about?" he asks, watching the cub slip outside.

Davy says musingly, "I remember when my little sister used to write poetry. Horrid stuff."

Alex returns Ada's hug and murmurs, "Deal," before she gets away. He then chuckles and looks over at Steven. "Having problems writing her operetta..."

Davy just rolls his eyes expressively at Steven at the word 'operetta.'

Alex quirks an eyebrow at Davy. "Ever heard her?"

Steven just about chokes, as he tries to swallow his first sip. "Operetta?" He blinks a couple of times, looks at Davy with a skeptical face and then shrugs.

Davy replies easily enough, "Since I just met her today, obviously not. She may be Mozart incarnate, kid, but there's a lot more people that think they have talent than the real thing." He looks over as the door is knocked on, pushing to his feet.

Louisa returns to the kitchen, then just as quickly turns to go answer the door. Louisa passes through the open doorway for the front part of the house.

In the front rooms, Louisa leaves through the front door. You can hear the screen door swing shut again with a clatter.

Davy falls back in his seat as the cub goes first.

Steven just snorts faintly at the mention of Mozart incarnate, and drinks some more beer. "Hell, Davy, it's been a while since I saw you. How the hell are you?"

Alex shrugs silently, then frowns after Lou. He pushes himself away from the counter, and murmurs, "Wonder what's keeping her..." as he makes his way to the hallway. Alex passes through the open doorway for the front part of the house.

In the front rooms, Alex leaves through the front door. You can hear the screen door swing shut again with a clatter.

Davy shrugs. "Been better, been worse. I haven't had a rumble in an age, other than that spat we had when the trees got all torn up, but I've been running my feet off with patrols." The next admission comes harder. "We've had to ask Cavall for help covering our area."

Steven grimaces slightly, even if he tries to hide it. "Yeah, that was damn weird -- the business with the spirit. I had that damn Strider mule yammering in one ear about how it was the end of everything or something." He pauses. "She's crazy, but then I usually find myself thinking that about all the crescents."

In the front rooms, Jose steps in from the porch, closing the front door behind him. In the front rooms, Jose looks around for his packmate. Hearing muffled muttering from the kitchen, Jose wanders in that direction. In the front rooms, Jose goes through the aperture at the northern end of the front hallway to enter the back room of the house.

Davy smiles briefly. "True enough." He glances over as the Gnawer comes in the kitchen and his expression lightens. "Hey man. You eat the cubs on the porch?"

Steven nods at the Gnawer ahroun. "Evening," he says affably. "Yeah," he adds after Davy. "Did they write you an operetta?"

Jose fakes a belch. "Too stringy. Wha's goin' on?" He spares Steven a short nod, changing it to a negative shake of his head. "Nope. Didn' give 'em a chance."

Davy snickers. "You were probably saved from a fate worse than death." He waves toward the fridge. "Grab a brew. I brought some out, lest Brian think I'd abandoned him." His face darkens again, but he quickly drains a bit more of his own dark beer.

Jose beelines toward the fridge. "Damn, Davy. You always crawlin' 'round inside my head." He peers inside the icebox, letting out a short sigh as he sees the brand. Not one to turn down free food (or drink), though, he takes a bottle and effortlessly pops it open, flipping the cap over with the dexterity of a street magician and *flick*, into the garbage.

"Neat trick," Steven says to Jose with a grin. "Davy says you guys got Cavall running around on your turf." Steven finishes off his brew and sets the bottle down. "Sounds like you guys need a membership drive."

Jose tilts the bottle back for quite a few seconds. He's pretty moist from the rain earlier. "We got a shortage of new blood, yah." He turns his head, at least, as he lets a real one go. "We had problems before coverin'. I'm hopin' some o' those guys find some cojones" accenting with a grab at his crotch, "an' decide to play wit' the big dogs."

Steven returns a short nod. "I've been spending a little more time in the city lately, actually. Maybe I could give you guys a hand for a while? If you want help. My apartment isn't too far from your turf." He looks at Davy and then Jose.

Davy grins at the other Fianna. "I wouldn't turn it down, at least until we get back up to snuff." He looks over at Jose, inquiringly, then asks, "You scent out Uncle, nosing around? I'm still not getting anything close."

Jose shrugs lightly, looking over at Davy's opinion. "Way I see it, we gotta a lotta dirty shit 'round our playground. Another pair of eyes won' hurt, sabe?" He shakes his head. "Pete hit the bricks for a while. Said somethin' about takin' care of old bizness. What he didn' say is when he's gonna get back."

Steven nods again. "Cool," he says. "Thanks for the beer, Davy. You guys hang out around the Rialto, right? I'll probably catch up to you there sometime." He gives a wave and opens the back door. Steven slides open the door in the kitchen, passing through into the back yard.

Davy's face twitches, then he watches the galliard go. "We need to talk pack biz, bro," says Davy quietly. "You wanna walk?"

Jose nods silently. "C'n I take my beer?"

Davy grins crookedly. "Sure thing. Just don't throw it in the woods, or Shea will have both of us strung up." He pushes to his feet and puts his own empty bottle on the counter. "Let's go."

Jose snorts and follows the Fianna out the back door.

After sliding back the kitchen door, you pass through into the back yard of the farmhouse.

Davy comes from the farmhouse with Jose. Neither are making particular effort to be quiet, and though they have more skill than humans, both are more urrah than anything in woodscraft.

Voice-of-Trees has taken refuge in the undergrowth, where he's been mostly dozing throughout the day. He wakes, hearing the passage of the two, but doesn't come out.

Jose is also carrying a beer in one hand, now half-empty. He is pretty soaked from the rains that moved through earlier. "So what's on you mind, hermano?"

Davy chews on his lower lip, then finally speaks. "With Pete gone to God-knows where, there's only three of us, buddy. And though I love Arlen, a lot of times she acts like every other theurge I've known--like she has her head firmly up her tailpipe. We got troubles."

Jose nurses at his bottle for a moment, not actually drinking anything. "An' our resident lesbo hit the bricks not too much before. You got some ideas?"

Davy runs his hand through his hair. "Man, losing her really hurt, too. First theurge I wasn't ashamed to lose to, sparring. She had her shit together." He then shakes his head, "Well, she's gone. And I can hope she'll come back, but I can smell the java too. Hershey hasn't sauntered back in in the last six months, and I'm not going to hold my breath over Morgan either."

Voice-of-Trees folds his ears back, uncomfortable at eavesdropping but unwilling to make his presence known. He rests his head back on the ground and closes his eyes, trying not to listen.

Jose nods at Davy. "Yeah, well, good fights're a dime a pack. Someone ya can trust costs a hell of a lot more." He ponders some more. "You know more people'n me. Got any ideas?" He ends hesitantly, as if wanting to say more. He doesn't though, for now.

Davy blows out his cheeks, then answers. "Some. But nothing I'm real comfortable with, to be honest. We've had an offer from someone that offered back when Alexander was still alpha, but he fell out of sight for a while. He's a good man in a pinch, and I told him pretty much flat out that for him to join he couldn't do any shrinking violet impression. We need people that will stick, not fade in and out when the mood takes them." He looks sideways at Jose. "You should know him. Pete recruited him, back then. Jackson."

Almost choking on his mouthful of beer, the MexiGnawer coughs wetly for a few seconds and manages to get out, "That puto? He's a serious prick, Davy." Jose wipes his chin of spittle and beer.

Davy frowns. "He's got some mouth, but I've never had any fuss with him." He glances sideways at the Gnawer. "He apparently doesn't hold a grudge against you, if he's asking to join Edge. One think I do know about him is he's got some grey matter, so he's gotta know who's in the pack. Want to tell me your feelings?"

Jose shrugs. "Well, the only time I ever saw 'im, he tol' me I wasn' no Child o' Rat and that he'd have Uncle Chugs throw me outta the bunch. So I ain' got no love for 'im. If he wants ta run with me, he'd better fuckin' well rethink it or try an' do somethin' about it."

Davy whistles, low. "I didn't know that," the Fianna says sincerely. "I'd feed the guy his balls that said I wasn't a child of Stag." A long pause, then, "I'll talk to him, ask him why he didn't tell me that."

Jose has taken up an offensive posture while discussing the Representative, hands hanging away from his sides, still holding the bottle in his left hand. "I'm willin' ta ask him to his face."

You say "Or that. But I want to be there."

Jose nods, relaxing his pose only slightly. "Hell, Razor's gonna wanna see how he throws it, anyway. I'm willin' ta show 'im."

Davy nods. "Reminds me, before we go on." He looks sideways at the Gnawer. "You going to accept me as boss-man until Pete comes back from his wander, or are we going to have to rumble?"

Voice-of-Trees's conscience pricks him one time too many. The Fianna Metis stirs himself in the undergrowth and utters a resigned sort fo chuff to let the urrah know that they are not alone.

Jose grins widely and toothlessly. "What makes you king shit?" The question is innocuous enough on the surface but, being what the two are, asks volumes. He doesn't spare a glance at whatever it is rustling in the bushes.

Davy would normally spare a look for the wolf-noise, but the challenge from his packmate--friendly or not--makes him turn to face the Gnawer instead. "I've been around, seen the shit, fought the fight. The hill's pretty small right now, but someone's gotta be king."

Voice-of-Trees sighs and settles back down again, closing his eyes tiredly.

Jose looks around for obvious types, then sets his beer down. "I don' think we c'n decide this without beatin' the snot outta each other, Davy. Lo siento."

You say "Here and now? Or you want to go to the caern, fight on the mound?"

Jose considers his options. "Mound. An' should we call Razor to judge, or at least watch?"

Davy considers, then his grin flashes. "He'd like to watch. But that means Umbraside."

Lightseeker comes snuffling up towards her packmates, making no particular effort to be silent at all. Evidently, she's looking for them.

Jose grins a wide grin, as something pops to mind. "Well, we both suck on the Flip. That's fair. We'll see who sucks less."

Lightseeker whurfs a hello. If you want Flip experts...

Davy begins to move toward the caern, smirking. "Least we suck less against each other than spirits." He notices Arlen before he's gone three steps, his smile widening slightly. "Oh no. You, I fight on this side. If you want a piece of the winner."

Lightseeker's ears flip forward. Oh, a /fight/. Can I come watch?

Jose grins and warmly pats Lightseeker on the side as he picks up his beer. To Davy, "Why would she be fightin' you if she's gonna take the winner?"

Voice-of-Trees remains quiet in the undergrowth, curled up in a hollow under a bush, his eyes closed and trying to nap.

Davy's answer is a snort. He motions the Fury on, though, saying, "We started talking about pack candidates, but then we moved to who's in charge while Uncle's following his pipe dream."

Lightseeker leans into Jose's patting, ears twitching slightly at Davy's comment. So you'll solve it, rather than talk. Very good.

Jose nods as he heads toward the Caern. "Nuff talkin'. Action."

Jabs has taken the wolf form, lest any track us.

Wears-the-Blue falls down into lupus, after Jabs surged ahead. Wears-the-Blue pads just a few feet behind the Gnawer, his tail held high and his ears betraying supressed excitement.

Touch Deer stands by the falls, just close enough for his buckskin clothing to become quickly dampened. He quietly watches everyone else enter the Caern.

Jabs trots purposefully towards the falls, tail wagging gently.

Lightseeker whurfs genially at Touch Deer, explaining, Pardon us, we're just using the pool...

Lightseeker's eyes stop on her reflection in the pool at the base of the waterfall.

Lightseeker gazes into the pool at the base of the waterfall, and suddenly she vanishes.

Jabs's eyes stop on his reflection in the pool at the base of the waterfall.

At the center, Rends-the-Dark heads northwest, towards the rocky slab.

From the rock outcropping, Rends-the-Dark comes towards the slab from the caern center. From the rock outcropping, Rends-the-Dark heads along the rough trail up along the wall.

Wears-the-Blue watches how fast the theurge disappears and grumbles, Showoff. He then follows, slower.

You start to reach through the umbra.

Wears-the-Blue's eyes stop on his reflection in the pool at the base of the waterfall.

The landscape shimmers in a myriad of colors, and you are through.

Wears-the-Blue gazes into the pool at the base of the waterfall, and suddenly he vanishes.

Umbra: Center of the Caern

The expanse of grass up and down the valley becomes much thicker here, a circular plush carpet of deep green fibers. Lunes dance wildly in the air, especially around the perimeter of the circle, and water sprites leap from the cliff's edge to the southeast down to the valley floor, giggling the whole way. An omnipresent light mist fills the umbral caern, not fully obscuring vision but blurring more distant objects. In the center of the circle is a large white boulder, with crystals on it glimmering with reflected light of the lunes. Etched into the boulder is the wandering glyph of the Wyld. The air here is charged, and seems to tingle. Even the least perceptive can feel the presence of this place, sense the strength here. Power reverberates through the Earth's shell like the sound of distant thunder, rumbling so deeply it must be felt rather than heard.

Touch Deer reaches through some moments after the others. He quickly makes his way towards you, asking on the way, "May I join you...?"

Lightseeker, snuffling about a bit, doesn't see why you couldn't.

Jabs does see a reason. This is a pack thing. Watch and stay out of the way. Clean up if it gets messy. His tail wags even harder once on the Flip.

Touch Deer tilts his head before nodding, eyes studying Jabs at the mention of him 'cleaning up'. He moves to a spot perhaps a five or six yards away and stands with his arms crossed across his chest.

Jabs circles around. Is this the place?

Wears-the-Blue eyes Jabs, circling. You know, with only three of us, we should handle this where we can still be of use in a couple of days. Before he shifts, though, he howls.

From Umbra: Center of the Caern, Wears-the-Blue can be heard to howl, ~Razor, come. We fight in your honor.~

Lightseeker rumbles, pacing voer towards the Wendigo, There are those of us who are theurges...

Jabs follows Wears-the-Blue into the near-wolf. We'll know when it has gone too far, brother.

From afar, to the room, Jose er, near-MAN

Touch Deer raises his eyebrows, but that's all he does as the Crescent moves towards him.

Jose reaches the Hairy form and calls out through thick lips and some missing teeth, "Razor! For you we decide who leads the battle!"

Davy waits for the weasel spirit, which never strays too far from the pack, to make his way to the caern center before beginning. He bares his teeth in a smile at Jabs. ~That we will, brother. But no need to cripple one for a few days to prove the other.~

Soon, from the south, Razor appears, undulating forward in true weasel form, chuckling quietly under his breath. He slows slightly when he reaches them, and begins circling the combat intently.

After some time Touch Deer looks back at the pool and excuses himself with a quick bow to Razor's Edge. He promptly exits quietly back through the pool.

Jose says, ~We should not hold back too much. No spirit crap, as well.~

Davy agrees to that without hesitation, though gifts are often where a fostern bests a cliath. "Rage?"

Jose says "Si. I can't work without it any more. Dunno if I ever could."

Lightseeker reaches out a hand to give Razor a brief greeting. He keeps circling, coiled tight, chuckling happily just under human hearing.

Davy nods again. He doesn't wait for any more questions, now, with the weasel watching with button-black eyes. He throws himself at the Gnawer, trying to close one hand on a shoulder to keep the ahroun in range. The other fist, his right, rears back for a punch at the jaw.

Grunting softly before the onslaught, Jose has to use his ace far earlier than expected. The left-handed Gnawer brings up his arm in a roundhouse that sweeps aside the punch as it whizzes toward his face, though it still grazes his right pectoral. A step back and quickly to the left allows a quick jab to the ribs above Davy's right kidney from Jose's right hand.

Davy lets out a grunt as the punch connects, the brawny torso muscles doing more to diffuse the backside blow than a homid's would, though the Fianna felt that move. His leg muscles ripple as he attacks back in more the manner of a bar fight than the boxing ring--his left foot comes briefly up, then powerfully down on Jose's instep. The stretched cowboy boot, with the glabro weight behind it, has the potention to break foot bones like rotten sticks.

Lightseeker is a very quiet audience, but she is certainly watching, moving as little as possible, apparently rooting for no one in particular - just a good fight.

Jose's foot bones do indeed crunch, loudly. A loud spit of pain accompanies a simple shove at the Fianna, sending him away and giving the Gnawer enough time to recover some from his foot being shattered by high heels and leather. Through tightly clenched, if gapped, teeth, Jose manages, "So much for not leavin' any marks."

Davy's grip on the Gnawer's shoulder is broken by the powerful shove. "You'll heal, fast," he grunts in return, taking only a second to reorient before firing a punch combination at the Gnawer before the said healing has time to occur and give the ahroun back his dexterity. His right swings in a roundhouse toward the jaw and, in answer, his own left comes thundering after in an uppercut. His punches aren't as classically clean as the Gnawer's, but there's quite a bit of force packed behind either Garou's brawny fists.

Jose, leaning slightly forward and favoring his good foot, seems to be sucking up most of the hits with his arms, which are crossed in front of his torso. The uppercut lands squarely in Jose's midsection. It hits true, but doesn't precede the normal rush of air associated with a body shot like that. His own rain of kidney punches lash out towards Davy's right side. The force is diminished due to the Gnawer leaning the wrong way, but quantity makes up for quality.

Davy grunts again, as the rain begins. But before more than a couple blows have a chance to land, the Fianna again reacts with an untypical response for the ring. He drops to one knee in front of the Gnawer, partly to escape and partly from pain. But rather than give Jose a chance to knee him in the face, he takes advantage of Jose's temporary bad foot to grab both legs and pin them together. He shoves with his shoulder, hard, trying to get the Gnawer on the ground, with Davy on top.

Jose has some experience with wrestling, but apparently not enough to counter effectively. He falls backwards awkwardly, flailing his arms as he goes down. He lands hard on his tailbone and elbows, then twists around, mostly in pain from the hard jarring, meanwhile kicking ferociously to get his legs free.

Davy takes one of those flailing knees in the gut, though his weight is giving him the advantage in making it hard for Jose to get leverage to hurt him too bad. Scowling, the Fianna ragabash levels a hard punch--straight up, from his perspectcive of his jawline around Jose's navel. The punch connects with the Gnawer's jaw with a solid sickening crunch, a blow that would have probably killed a human. The Fianna certainly isn't holding back.

Jose would crumple, were he standing. As it is, Davy is holding on to an unconscious man's legs. That shot would have pulped a pumpkin.

Davy rolls off of Jose, moving painfully as his muscles finally get a chance to knit and unbruise. His breath is harsh and loud as he lies next to his packmate, staring up at the sky.

Lightseeker shifts upwards, now that that's over, and flashes a grin at Davy. "Good job, boss man."

Davy turns his head a little so he can look at Lightseeker. He grins, faintly, his breath still heavy. ~Nother...couple years...he'll beat me. He should...challenge soon.~

Arlen nods. "Bit past due, I think. Especially in this mob."

Davy nods again. He then shuts his eyes, content to rest a bit.

Jose struggles to gain consciousness, eventually. That's when the healing of his broken jaw and foot starts.

Arlen, crosslegged, snorts quietly. "You planning to challenge soon, or sit around and waste yourself, Jabs?"

Jose waits to answer until after his jaw stops mimicing a maraca. He tests it gently before answering, "Yeah. I got some ideas. Like gettin' some payback for Thunder's Claws."

Davy opens his eyes and rolls to his side, proping his head up with his hand. His greenish eyes, human in a freak's face, study Jabs.

Jose spits out some bloody sputum and grins at Davy, the teeth still in his head still tinged with red. "Good shot, dude. That was about the only way you were gonna get away with it."

Davy grins back, though pain still mars his own forehead. ~If I were human,~ he rumbles, ~I'd be pissing blood a week. Well fought.~

Razor, somewhat like a walking slinky, gallops towards the two men. *You do more of that soon, very soon, or do I have to go find some myself, all by myself?*

Davy rolls back to the totem. ~Soon,~ he promised. ~Keep your nose sharp for people to fight with us. We are. I'd rather be fighting than running double patrols, I promise.~

The weasel licks his nose, and then darts in and licks Davy's nose. *Have been, will be, will keep being. Good to know.*

Jose rests back upon the cool, damp earth, content to lay in the lush umbral surroundings for a minute..

Davy grins at the wet lick, though there's a momentary widening of his eyes before the rasp of the tongue--rather than the nip of teeth--reassures him. He glances away when the weasel pulls back, between Arlen and Jose. His voice is wry. ~I take suggestions.~

Jose looks over at Davy, keeping his head on the ground. "How 'bout the Charach? She's fulla piss. An' contrary to what some think, she's done her time."

Davy's jaw tightens, and he forces his body to sit up. The packmates are treated to something they've rarely, if ever, seen on the ragabash's face--intolerance. "Not a charach," he rasps. "Metis, Gnawer, Lord, yeah. I'll take the shit from my tribe. I don't give a fuck. But not a Litany-breaker. She's got no honor."

Jose rolls his head back to look at the Umbral sky. "She will again."

Arlen shrugs. "I can live with her or without her - I helped her chiminage, after all - but I think she'd be better in a pack where she doesn't have tribemates."

Jose nods at Arlen. "I helped 'er out in the mountains, when the Traitor was cut. I mean, hell. Us Gnawers gotta help the little folks out. She's about as low as it gets."

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