Simon

Thu 01:26AM EST
*Deep in the pine berrens the inky black wolf partols his territory. Renewing his markers as he goes. Just a little off his game by the lack of something. His steps are just a bit out of wack as he moves on the 4 large paws though the snow*


Knife-in-the-Spine

Thu 01:29AM EST
There's another one in Simon's territory tonight - a quartermile in from the quasi-amorphous boundary line, standing dewclaw-deep in snow - motionless. If not for his pitchblack fur against the white snow, and the scent that he freely allows to waft downwind to the other, he might be easily missed.


Simon

Thu 01:33AM EST
*Pausing in his stride the wolf scents the air and turns hard right. His pace quickening as he appraches from downwind. No sounds betray his approach though the night. Somone is in his house and he'll know whom and why soon*


Knife-in-the-Spine

Thu 01:35AM EST
You might think him a statue at first despite the scent of life and vitality that would betray him. He is still as marble, only the tips of his fur moving. That and, occasionally, a flick of an ear. A twitch of the nose. He waits...this is the territory of another of his Tribe, and one must say hello to the relatives, yes?


Simon

Thu 01:38AM EST
*He appraches boldly and steps into view. A stocky inky black wolf. Almost a perfect example of his breed except he has a bob tail. He raies his head and sniffs the new wolf from about 20 feet off and waits for him to do something.*


Knife-in-the-Spine

Thu 01:43AM EST
Motion at the corner of his eye. The newcomer turns his head, and his eyes gleam yellow even in this poor light. Those eyes narrow as the wolf scents the air for whatever particles of smell the eddying night breeze brings. Pitchblack, muscular and broad across the chest - more intimidating than attractive, the Shadow Lords' wolf forms always were - the new wolf crunches forward across the snow. His tracks are not to be seen. He has been standing there long enough that the snowfall has eliminated them once more.

He moves stifflegged because he is not afraid. He keeps his head level to or below the other wolf's, however, because this territory is not his, and he knows the litany well. A chuff of greeting puffs white into the air, first in the language of wolves, then in the language of Garou.


Simon

Thu 01:46AM EST
*He stands with his head held high and sniffs the wolf appraching. When greeted he replys in the language of wolves as well. A little garbeled because... well...... No tail.* ~WS~ Greatings... stranger?


Knife-in-the-Spine

Thu 01:53AM EST
Stranger, yes, but not for long. Close now, the newcomer stretches forward to sniff muzzles, and then circles to sniff under the tail. It's a ritual older than time, old enough that even those wolfkind born of man remember it in their blood, in this form. And it's performed gingerly, ears half-laid back, hackles half-raised, because this is the moment that can most easily descend into violence.

When it's past, the newcomer wolf backpedals a step and stands with paws braced wide. He shows respect in the territory of another, but not deference. Indeed, deference is not in his blood - and pure, that blood flows.

I am called the Knife in the Spine. Cliath Full-Moon of the Shadow Lords. I saw your mark on the oak and the ash. I saw the mark of Thunder. I thought I had found another. I hope I will not be disappointed.


Simon

Thu 01:59AM EST
*He lets the other sniff and he sniffs at the same time. When the other backs off he nods once and chuffs in his broken speech.*
~WS~ I am Simon Bobtail. Cliath No Moon of the Shadow Lords. You have seen my mark and are in my home. You are blood and thusly accepted.

* he doesn't show defiance eithert but his greeting is alot warmer than it would have been if the pure blood of the other didn't sing forth*
No dissapointment is to be found among the lords. Such that would bring is it put to the blade young. Only equals or betters are found among our people.


Knife-in-the-Spine

Thu 02:05AM EST
A brief swing of the heavy-feathered black tail at the name, rank and welcome, quickly stilled. It is not until Simon speaks again that the movement of his tail truly becomes a wag, though held low and kept slow.

Such words prove your tribe, Simon Bobtail. I have scented others outside your territory. Two or three at least bear the scent of the changing blood. Is the tribe strong here? Who else stalks these woods?


Simon

Thu 02:09AM EST
*he shakes his head in a disgusted snort and sniffs the air* No. Weaklings and fools almost to a wolf. Yourself and mine are the only of our tribe that exist out here. I've even ventured into nearby cities more than once and detected no kin. Though the laws of adverages says so must be. We are alone my brother. Our numbers count at two. But as you know. Our two means twenty to those of lessor blood. Divided we deceive. United we conquer!


Knife-in-the-Spine

Thu 02:16AM EST
The Full-Moon wolf is of a more reserved bent. Nonetheless he chuffs, one foreleg pawing at the freshfallen snow. Two is enough. Two is more than enough.

There is a kin in the City of Jersey, of human bent. She has agreed to bear my cubs, but I do not serve the tribe best as cub-maker. I serve the tribe as warrior first. I will take territory in these woods...you have been here longer than I. What direction lies unprotected?

Unprotected, he says, and unprotected he means. Not necessarily unclaimed.


Simon

Thu 02:18AM EST
*he sniffs the air and indicares an area that would buff right up aginst Noah's.* That way would be a valuable resource. It comes close to anothers land though I've seen him not and smelled him rarly. One of the Celts I'd imagine by his howls in the night.

Do you come with Pack my brother? As all garou I am a warrior but my service is better as Beta.


Knife-in-the-Spine

Thu 07:13PM EST
The Knife in the Spine takes a few steps in the indicated direction, raising too his nose to the wind. A series of quick inhales; a long puff of exhale. I will begin there, and seek the Celt when I have claimed my land. Thank you...

Then, pivoting about, hind legs not moving, No. No pack. A tilt of his head to one side, inquisitive, ears straight. Do you propose to follow?


Simon

Thu 07:16PM EST
*He sniffs the other. The blood. The auspice. THe manner. He seems to ponder and chuffs acent* I will follow as long as your strength holds. As our custom. The first time weakness is shown. All bets are off.
*no insult. None intended. It's simply their way*


Knife-in-the-Spine

Thu 07:19PM EST
No insult intended, and none taken. The yellow eyes of the Knife are piercing, though, and perceptive. So certain of my strength already? And how can I be certain of yours, that you could assume command should mine fail?


Simon

Thu 07:21PM EST
Your blood speaks much for you. Your manner more. If you cannot hold those riens then nothing is lost. If you prove as strong as I asertain. THen we both benifit.


That much is true. The black wolf, heavyset in this form and far from the bladed grace of his homid shape, bends his head to lick briefly at a forepaw. Raising his head again, Nor can you be weak to be of the tribe. And if I am not strong enough to quell insurgency, then I am not strong enough to deserve trust. Thus neither are of a concern.

But we have yet to hunt as one: you have yet to show your skill as Ragabash and scout-spy; I have yet to show mine as Ahroun. Find us a target within one week, Simon Bobtail, and I will prove as strong as you think. Then we will be worthy in the eyes of a totem. Do you agree?


Simon

Thu 07:33PM EST
*He seems to ponder that as well. Sniffs the air and nods* It shall be.


Knife-in-the-Spine

Thu 07:43PM EST
Good. Two steps backpedaled. You will know where to find me, No-Moon, when your target is determined. It is not a question. Turning tail, the newcomer pads away, and out of the other's territory to etch out his own.


Simon

Thu 07:43PM EST
*He sniffs the air and turns. silence enveloping him as he blurrs from sight*