do you bare your fangs at us, sir? MOONLIT RIVALS LOG 2, SCENE 2

[libraryassistants]

Who: Readers and Actors
What: The werewolves who are not sneaking into the party cause a bit of mischief... and did anybody actually agree to keep the peace tonight?
When: The night of the ball itself. [ooc timeline: Feb 6th - 19th]
Where: The city of Montica.
Content warnings: Please include any warnings in headers.


Waxing Gibbous Moon

In Town

Above the city, the Umbra Mansion stands tall. Its grand doors and windows have been opened, spilling light like a beacon. Music lilts in the air, drifting so far as to be faintly heard even in the neutral centre of the city.

The streets have emptied, particularly in the vampiric half of town. Most of the vampire loyalists have joined the masquerade, leaving their homes and shops unattended. Tonight is a special night - a once in a century event, and they wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Even some werewolves and neutral citizens have been enticed to attend. Jadis the Mystic has created a lotion that will disguise the scent of a werewolf; an effect that is broken by shifting, breaking the skin, or the gradual passage of time. It is not widely distributed, but rumours travel fast. The lotion is only given to any Guildulf-aligned werewolves, but… well, there’s nothing wrong with a little trade here or there. Right?

For all of the wolves in town - with the moon so close to being full, it’s natural for them to feel a bit more excitable. Energetic. Ready to take on the world. And seeing as Montica is so empty, it’s like a playground has just been opened up. The young wolves in particular are eager to take advantage of the empty streets, the sound of not-quite-mature howls breaking through the air in their excitement. There are hardly any people around to be scared if they play too rough or run too fast, and they are taking advantage of this with great enthusiasm.

In the highly-debated 'neutral' zone, some small packs of adolescent werewolves are gathering. There's banter and roughhousing, the not-quite-adults playfully shoving each-other over the invisible line where the vampire territory begins.

Some of the bravest amongst them take the challenge to dart over and brush their fingers over silver doorhandles - their yelps spurring courage and adrenaline in the others. What starts harmlessly enough quickly escalates as they urge each-other on, teenage excitement and the thrill of the moon encouraging all sorts of bad choices. The longer they go without reprimand, the more bold they become; and somewhere along the way, bulbs of garlic start winding up in places they wouldn't normally be found. (There is at least one group who is excitedly challenging each-other to leave the garlic in more and more absurd places. If they happen to sting themselves on some silver ornamentation on the way, all the better.)

Not all homes are unoccupied, though - sooner or later someone’s going to disturb someone else’s peace, and tensions are already so high. Hopefully there are some Responsible Adults around to curtail the worst of the mischief before someone’s temper is sparked.

Comments

[curzed]

"It is often ... uncomfortable for some to realize there is no moral high ground that doesn't empower an opponent, gratuitous force is often what is necessary to preserve order against those who have grown complacent." The still-burning wolf will go out in time, but may burn a hole in the floor. What's left of it is herded bit by bit across the bloodstained floor towards the hearth, where it can burn freely on granite instead of something more flammable. He doesn't need to stand to do it, there's no room to stand here anyway. "It is always the victim that is expected to 'be the bigger person' and 'have higher standards', to shame them into neglecting proportionate retaliation."

A lesson that might only be listened to for the duration of this Story. He knew every single one of his brothers save Mortarion abhorred his methods and reasoning. "..Hm. Well. Keep it salted, and once you are finished rubbing their noses in their mess, I'm sure I'll still be around." Somewhere. If the story's ongoing, he'll be there too.

"I have my reward already. This was a debt to be paid, remember." That's both true and not quite, but it serves his purposes. "As such, I will ask my brother to see to your wounds, and those of your household. Your witch risks damage if she continues to exert herself further."

Curze doesn't think infection is worth playing with. But it's also not an emergency.

It's easy to assume he means another vampire, and that it might not be til sunset that said brother might arrive.

[guilliman]

"There should be," Roberte says plainly. "There can be, if those with the strength of will make it so. But there are times that the troublesome elements must be made an example of. The man-eater wolf must be culled for the sake of men and wolves." He taps the back of the loaned blade on Appienne's skinned ribcage. Almost done, now.

"As you say," he acknowledges, though he truly does wish he could offer more and have it accepted. "I am still grateful. As for your brother, if he can secret himself past the gates, just let him not be seen. Or have him move openly, and identify himself as your brother, and he shall be given entry." A familiar sort of wry smile. "So might you, though I expect you shall make your own way instead."

[curzed]

Curze's smile is brief and bitter. "Often I have heard others say something similar. But I have never seen life work the way it 'should', if all were fair and equal. And so we do what we must, so others do not have to." Including killing and skinning rival pack leaders, it seems.

There's no doubt in his mind Sigrid and Sigwulf would have been targets if they were there, as well. Leave even one wolf alive..

"Avoiding being seen isn't much his style, but I'll advise him all the same. He favors red, I imagine he'll be difficult to miss." What name is Magnus currently using? He hadn't bothered to find out. How troublesome. "I will draw too much attention, I think. It is better for the perceived strength of your pack if this.." He waves one bloodsoaked hand at the corpses - and surely more out of sight. "..is seen as self defense, and not the interference of an outsider."

When he rises, it's never quite straightening up, well used to moving in spaces not made for him. "Nothing lives in these walls save those which carry the scent of the house. If any linger outside, they will not for long." He is, apparently, fully intending on making sure of it.

[guilliman]

"So that others do not have to," he agrees solemnly.

The worst case scenario of his children, his children being harmed, is in the forefront of his mind as well -- will be, until this is all resolved to his satisfaction -- and were it to come about, he would burn Montica to the ground himself. God willing, it won't come to that.

"Red. I shall watch for him." He cuts the last bits of tough flesh with the Haunter's knife, as he watches him rise. It may be the finest knife he's ever used. But it is not his. He wipes it off on his thigh, and offers it back to the man, hilt-first. "Good moon and good hunting, Night Haunter. Be safe and be well."

[curzed]

He really should take the knife back.

It's just a story. He'll get it back eventually. "You may keep it for now. I doubt there's much else in this 'city' which can match adamantium. Put it to use."

He had others, if it came to it. He could get a skin off a man as well with his nails or a broken piece of glass, a knife was a luxury he didn't require. "I'll be watching."

With that pseudo-reassuring statement, Curze heads for the window. Between one step and the next, ten feet of too-pale primarch becomes an oversized but much more maneuverable indoors bat that hops easily up onto the open window's sill and then right out it.

He's still not good at flying, he's only been at it a single night. But he's catching on quick.

[guilliman]

"If you're certain --"

But the Night Haunter is already moving to leave before he finishes his sentence, and Roberte is getting enough of a feel on the man's mind that he knows pursuit would be futile. He chuffs softly, in frustration, and flips his grip on the fine blade. If the man insists that he holds on to it for now, so be it. When it must be relinquished, it will be.

"Be well," he says to the open window, in an echo of sentiment. He shall accept the Night Haunter's gifts, and use them as intended. Of there is a chance to thank him later, he promises himself, he will.