2018.10.24 Black Spiral Moot

The Wyrm's Moot
A gathering of Black Spiral Dancers and their Kinfolk
IC Date	October 24, 2018
IC Time	Night
Players	Azoth, Bobby Hume, Delia, Eris, Estrella, Hamish, Hazard, Helen Shepherd, Kurt, Pax, Russ(ST), Zora
Location	The Pit of Shattered Souls - The Temple
Spheres	Wyrm
Theme Song	Lords of Iron - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5u9glfqDsc

Shattered Souls - The Temple

Upon entering this cave one could very easily tell the vast difference, and absolute contrast that it has then any other place within the abysmal pit. Several words might come to mind that rather adequately describe the atmosphere here - Sterile. Unholy. Clean. Acute. Quiescent. Perfection. The sensation one might get from this room is a sort of dark peace. A place for those that come here to reflect upon the meaning, and purpose within these walls. A means for meditation, prayer, rituals, offerings, a place for holding moots, challenges as well as other gatherings, and sacrifice of a variety of kinds...Mind, body and soul. This entire room is always in a state of immaculate cleanliness and those that enter here seem to keep to the theme of just that - a twisted divinity. The room oddly is completely circular and baring no imperfections of any kind within its pristine walls. The walls, ceiling, and even the floor are in an absolute state of sleek smoothness and likely crafted with a power beyond that of any mere mortal. The room and nearly everything within it is made from quartz crystal which provides the entirety of the cave to remain in a semi-translucent state. Layered within the milky-white crystal are tiny slivers of black obsidian lines that stretch and reach out like a spider's web through the clear stone. The ceiling unlike the rest of the room is shaped in the form of what the inside of a pyramid might look like and possibly crafted like such to add a sense of mental enlightenment considering the structural history that it represents. The entire room is cool to the touch, airy, and kept fresh. Lining all around the circular smooth walls are geode bindings of all different types of colors. The shape of each sparkling, crystal, rock forms a pocket that holds long, wooden torches that forever burn at the tips in dim, flickering, sickly-green, embers, and provide a near sensual pleasantness to the surroundings. Within the room the constant scent of burning, herbal, incense can be nearly tasted upon the pallet in an almost sweet and alluring manner. Surrounding the center of the room are various rocks made for one to seat upon and serve as pews for religious purposes. Within the center of the circular pews is a pure, white, marble altar. The altar stands a good several feet off from the floor. Upon its surface are several metal restraints attached to it in order to hold a sacrificial subject in place. The altar is rather wide, and several feet in diameter as well as length. A variety of ritualistic tools can be seen often set upon the altar for use in sermons, always kept clean, and placed upon a black, silk, cloth that supports them. The altar stands flat upon four thick pillars made from the same material as the altar. Engraved into the altar as well as throughout the room, are small divots similar to the 'veins' within the heart of the pit and serve as a canal for spilt blood to collect at the base below. The blood spreads throughout the entirety of the room like spindly fingers that catch the precious life source to 'feed' the power that resides here. Oddly the blood that flows through these vein-like canals seems to remain in a state of eternal preservation. No matter how much blood is spilt to fill the 'veins', never do they seem to overflow nor dry up. The hunger worshiped within this sacred place forever insatiable, needing to be kept charged as well as replenished in order to maintain the mental, and spiritual integrity within. Behind the altar not too far away is an eternal wellspring of flowing, rich, and purified, magical energy known as gnosis - the lifeblood that empowers this place. The spiritual life-blood flows in a waterfall effect and caught within a massive quartz crystal basin where it pools, bubbles, and thrives in its primordial essence. Curiously though, the basin never seems to overspill, and likely due to the fact that the source of the power that it provides is used to some degree to keep the natural potent state of this place.

---

The preparations began at sunup...

Kinfolk dressed in hooded ritual robes stalk the upper tunnels of the Pit. These pious minions are tasked with decorating the Hive for the Moot; they put out pikes with heads upon them leading the way to the temple, they waft burners of intoxicating incense lacing the air with belladonna and bergamot, they scatter fragments of bone to create a biting carpet of white that attendees must traverse to find the Temple. All throughout the day these cloaked figures lend a stolid solemnity to the otherwise violent setting. A pathway in a maze of ill lit tunnels flanked by the disembodied heads on pikes of those Kinfolk who died in service to the Pit grants passage to the ritual space. The carpet of pulverized bone stops at the doorway to the Temple.

The entryway opens up into a large expansive room with a pristine unholy presence hewn into the very structure of the earth. The Temple is large crystalline room that is currently occupied by the various denizens of the Hive of Shattered Souls. The space is divided into three general clusters of activity centered around three very important individuals. In the back of the room a band of musicians being led by one of the lesser known Galliards is playing what amounts to Celtic metal. The bagpipes, pan flutes and electric guitars are being played over the steady thrum of the ritual drum. The pounding baseline and haunting vocals create a twisted cultural significance that reverberates around the temple. When Spirals of note speak the music grows softer and the rituals drums become a steady whisper in the background.

Lords of Iron - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5u9glfqDsc

In the western circle Ripper Jack, Beast of War, leads his most loyal Bastards in several rounds of cut throat sparring to set the mood. The Monstrous Metis Ahroun is a respected Elder and the champion of many battles. As Spirals gather for the Moot he calls to his cronies and fists fly as easily as greetings amoung the cut throat bunch.

In the eastern circle Uuurrrrp, the Pit's very own Eater of Souls, finds herself enraptured by the throngs of addicts as she and her closest cohorts indulge in Wyrmish delicacies. In Uuurrrrp's circle the party has already begun as those gathered there partake of various intoxicants in the form of hard drugs and drink. The ultimate focus this evening is the center circle where our dutiful Master of the Rite tends to his altar whilst chaos surrounds him on every side. AnguDa'Staagra is dressed for ritual work in his Crinos skin and he wears an elaborate black robe with wyrmish glyph stitched into the edges.

One 'small' section of the cave where the Ritual is taking place is absolutely packed with people who all bear some passing resemblance to one another. Most have pale or blonde hair though it ranges through all colors here and there, most are dressed in their Pictish best, which is to say not a whole hell of a lot. Like UUrrrpp's circle this one is laiden with various intoicants as well, though wine is the favored drink. Several groups have already, unable to contain themselves, begun to fornicate. All have woad painted on their skin, though -all- have Pictish Bats on their chest a clear sign to any who choose to use them in the Revel who they'll answer to if they're broken. In the center is a throne made of living flesh, bound together with the silkiest bondage rope a dozen, give or take, human figures are bent into the shape of a throne. Lashed and bound together erotically so that if one moves too much it causes the ropes to tighten and constrict on all of them the Kinfolk come together to form the seat, arms and high back of a human throne. A few pillows have been added to ensure the comfort of the one lounging on said throne.

A top this seat of bound flesh is the Defiler Wyrm, Eris. For the ritual dressed or 'not' dressed in a deep blue 'sarong' that hangs off her hips. Her chest is 'covered' by consecutive loops of silver and platinum containing opulent varying grades of blue jewels, glittering black and white pearls and silver Pictish curls and whorls in decoration. The 'necklace' large enough to ensure her nipples are semi-hidden but not much else. This shows off a lot of skin, probably to aid in the display of the blue woad that paints the Pictish Princess' form in full Pict style across her face, arms and legs, making her scars and tattoos glow and glimmer against her pale skin. Her hair is fade cut on one side, the other is braided through with matching decor to her outfit and blue streaks added throughout it. Male Kin, two, a tall blonde cut figure with a boy next door looks ( https://wallpapersite.com/images/pages/pic_w/15679.jpg ), he's wearing a pair of low-slung jeans that hang off his Adonis belt and is fanning Eris to make sure she doesn't get (ew) sweaty with all these bodies packed in this warm moist space. The other is Bobby who's been outfitted with jeans as well but he's on making sure Eris is hydrated and fed while she observes the Rite from a lofty imperial position. Curled at her hip is a silver tipped white-leather whip, attached to a hilt on her thigh is a long dagger made of solid silver from tip to butt. All in all the voyeuristic Ragabash seems ready to stay back and watch while her Kinfolk see to her every never-ending whim and desire.

It is the second time the big brute known as Hazard has visited the pit. In many ways, this serves as a 'heritage trip' for the large Fomori. He was educated on the moot, well acquainted on the spiritual intricacies of the Wyrm. It rarely manifests, but in truth, Edward 'Hazard' Leeman is a bit of a zealot. A soldier brainwashed to despise all that is Gaian and to serve the Wyrm. While his bane coos in glee from its Wyrm dedicated surroundings and the presence of so many Dancers, Hazard has remained reserved thus far. He has not arrived dressed as a First Teamer. He has arrived in a black hooded robe baring no marks of note. The only occult token worth noticing is a polished and cleaned skullcap he harvested from one of his various victims and carved a glyph in honor of the wyrm of calamity upon. This hangs around his neck by a leather chord. Hood drawn over his head bald head, only his height and bulk causes him to somehow stand out from the other kinfolk. The sparring festivities by Ripper Jack have particularly caught his attention.

Kurt makes no glorious entrance, his presence seems to do enough for that. The air of confidence lends a regal tone to the overall feral demeanor of the wolf. In his breed form, the presence of Dragon is obvious; from the horns that sweep back from his forehead, a second smaller sub-set angling back at a slightly different angle, to the balefire eyes split by dagger-point pupils. The purity of solid white fur is broken up by the patterns of thick ridged scales that run along his throat, chest, hips and outer thighs. Breaking up the white and pearl of fur and scales are crack-like scars that glow with balefire just under the surface of the skin.

One half of the Half-moon's body has been intricately decorated in the pure blue of woad, fractal spirals work from the side of his muzzle and cheek, down his neck and shoulder to decorate his arm, flank and leg on the left side. The eldest Philodox displays more of his power with rune-bound and dedicated trinkets and Fetishes. From the bear-headed torc around his thick neck to the iron chain wrapped around his wrist opposite a solid cuff, every piece bears his mark in some way.

The Metis wears his marks and with full pride, and with good reason. Not just anyone bears Green Dragon's blessings, let alone by themselves. He stalks with an unbridled confidence into the gathering with his blazing eyes casting this way and that to observe those here in judgemental silence.

In one hand is a thick rawhide leash that changes to three thick chains of silver that lash around the throats of three incredibly uncomfortable wolves, their heads and tails all hang in shame at being paraded in like this under the guidance of the Dox. The other hand is gauntleted in leather and bones, a large jaw bone plating his knuckles.

Estrella follows just a few paces behind Kurt. Her steps are confident and lacking their usual drunken sway. Her head is held high and her poise is fluid and graceful. The flickering silver gauze of her aura courses through with a steady current of phantom balefire. Her eyes and tongue and fingertips all undulate like a quartet conducted by the glowing mark of the Eater of Souls that blazes brightly on her forehead. She glows, she *shines,* but stays close to cut the shadow of the wolfdrake with her unearthly radiance.

She is nearly nude, having given up her beloved black ruffles and recycled vinyls in favor of attire more fitting for this gathering of wolves and kin: A loincloth that has been painted with an intricate mandala in white hangs on her hips. The design spirals out all the way to the edges of the leather and bears the names of every head of the Hydra the witch knows the glyph for. Above the waist, only the barest threads of modesty are provided by a series of brass chains and stringed pearls that hang heavily about her neck to cradle a mummified heart resting in a finely-wrought cage between her breasts. Leather cuffs encircle her wrists and upper arms, strung together with more pearls and the occasional hunk of amethyst, pink tourmaline and obsidian. A second heavy chain rests about her waist and holds an intricately designed lantern, also in brass, to her hip.

A smile spreads over her darkly inked lips as she steps into the Temple, breathing in deep the scents of sweat and blood, the thrum of the crowd like a sweet chorus to her ears. A few familiar faces mull about, but the call of the offered drugs and drink in the eastern circle is strong and she can barely keep her eyes off the activity long enough to make sure she doesn't get seperated from the one she follows.

Slipping in with the other robe-clad Kinfolk, the equally robed figure of Pax appears, his face covered with a cracked smile of a mask that ensures his features are generally unrecognizeable, save those who might recognize the mask itself.

Other than the mask itself, his figure is easy to pass over, attributed to the other black-robed Kinfolk in the area. Hands stuffed together within the flowing arms of his garb, he stalks silently along the back of the room. Stopping near the back of the crowds of Dancers and Kinfolk, he silently turns and gazes about the room, allowing himself a decent enough point to catch everything in a wider view and perspective.

After standing in place for a moment, a sizeable bat materializes from the other side of the Gauntlet, the creature landing on the back of the Kinfolk and crawling its way up and over the side of his shoulder, chittering and screeching away as the now-dou gaze out on the festivities of their kind. A gloved hand lifts and scratches the bat beneath the chin, then returns to the robe from whence is came as he seems to prepare himself to enjoy the night's festivities.

Silent, smaller in both form and presence, like a shadow. Delia is mere steps behind Estrella, clothed in a simple black robe that covers every inch of her, the hood hung over her hair, and a black veil neatly concealing her face from view. The hem of the robe brushes the tops of the flat soled slippers on her feet. Her gaze follows the back of the other woman's knees, and the feet of the half-moon crinos that strides before them.

The Keeper of the Land, the Theurge Metis with no name other than the one so rited Azoth, stands in attendance amongst the throng of Family so gathered. He holds no special position or place; indeed, the monstrous bastard might be lost in the sea of those nearby. While the Blind Seer is unable to fully gaze upon the wonders of such sights on his own, by the might and wish of the whippoorwill perched upon his head the glory unfolds nonetheless inside his mind.

Time spent helping to prepare for this day has made the Crinos-born a tired worker. Negotiations, delegations, plans, and preparations all weaving together the selfish chaos of the spiritual denizens that also call the Pit of Shattered Souls home, there are more eyes on the proceedings than that of the most obviously visible.

Low on Gnosis, low on energy, yet intoxicated by the majesty of such a familial gathering, Azoth is there is full ritual clothing: not a shred of cloth touches his fur, but his head, his neck, his arms and torso, and even his tail all bear more bone-crafted jewelry than what is normally worn. In addition, marks and splashes of paint color his otherwise black fur and sickly-colored skin as visible. Despite this macabre showing, not a single item worn or displayed covers his shoulders or lower back.

Because of such dress, any movement made brings about the clattering tinkle of bone tapping against bone. Yet, in contrast to the boom ambiance and music, it is but a soft sound easily muted. Within, a much stronger noise is heard in his ears, as the pulse of Azoth's heartbeat seems to grow stronger, faster, as the seconds tick by and more arrive.

When a sufficient number of Garou have gathered the Ritemaster turns and shoots a look to Fraaâ'zakt (Ripper Jack) in the western end of the room. The Monstrous Metis is in Crinos and when the Elder Ahroun catches the Ritemaster's eye he tips his head back and bellows out a howl that calls the room to order. It is a manic wordless order and many Garou around the room join in on the Howl once its begun... raising their voices in tribute to their Father, the Wyrm.

Trailed by his Kinfolk, Kurt brings the wolves on leash to heel as they stalk up to the Defiler Wyrm on her high perch with her own Kinfolk surrounding her. The low growled greeting is given to the blonde as he takes up the space beside her. The leash is slipped up to his wrist to keep the frightened creatures attached and without options. He settles one huge hand onto the shoulder of the Elder Ragabash, the other on the back of the neck of Estrella. Delia kept close in his shadow as he observes the Rite Master, and Ripper Jack. The latter earning a narrowing of eyes and a cruel smile before he throws his head back and howls with the rest. The trio he keeps on leash do not howl, they only cringe and huddle against one another for support.

The Ritemaster soon joins in the howl and he tips his horned head back so far it arches his back in an overly dramatic manner as he holds the warbling note. His ritual robes sweep the ground around his cloven hooves and he clops in a circle as he holds onto the howl and lets the gutteral note linger.

Eris' eyes do drift to figures that enter but the palest third of the Triumvirate's entire focus seems to be on the altar and the right. She lounges elegantly while one of the female kinfolk painted in woad bat's and nude continues to paint fine blue spirals in woad across her lower calf. But when the howl is called Eris shifts up, pushing the kinfolk that was at her foot over and making the throne stress and groan in unison as she goes from a slip of a thing to a great white Crinos, mockingly lovely in the face of what's waroed around her. She joins the Howl in a full-throated roar that curls her talons into the sides of one of the Kinfolk under her and probably deafens the blonde who was fanning her. He blinks dazedly, thankfully he's still pretty.

Hazard bows his head as the howl resonates through the air. Remaining the hooded giant on the periphery, he turns his head to observe allowing his attention to fall off the piles of writhing bodies, the drugged masses, or maybe it was the bloodied brawl. He casts side-glances toward each the Garou and marvels at the juxtaposition this experience has with his normal day to day. He shuffles along for a better view of the proceedings.

Bobby shakes his head a bit as the howls go out and Eris shifts, as if snapping out of a haze. He moves a bit away, looking at the other kin serving the Defilier Wyrm making sure that the throne is holding together well. He grins a bit and licks his lips slightly.

Estrella bows her head to Eris atop that throne of flesh as she's brought around beside her in Kurt's wake. She takes a moment to peel her eyes away from what's right in front of her once that massive paw comes to the back of her neck. Her eyes flash wide as the howl starts, but she lids them shut and lets her head fall back to perch against Kurt's wrist. The cacophony pierces through her, humming down into her bones, and her black-lipped smile just about takes over her face.

Movement near the exit causes the voices to taper off, howls that could warble on indefinitely stop suddenly when something seemingly unwelcome stumbles into the Ritual Chamber...

A wild Bastet appears! A blood covered feline looking creature stumbles into the room as if shoved. It is on two legs when it enters but its arms and feet are chained together in such a manner that it falls forward onto all fours after several steps. As the misshappen bloodied creature draws closer it soon becomes clear that it is no Bastet. It is our Fool! The Fostern Spiral Ragabash known as Somethingsomething has donned the skinned remains of a Bastet and he lumbers around the gathering looking like a ragged mountain lion with a man's face.

Somethingsomething stinks of the enemy and as he goes from gathering to gathering he shouts obscenities against the Wyrm. He's inviting those who would Honor the Wyrm, those who would Honor Whipporwill, to pull apart his false hide. To tear the cat's flesh from his very back while he is unable to defend himself. The chains and the costume make it difficult to move quickly and he lumbers along as those around him snarl viciously and snap at him. It is a dangerous Honor to play the Fool! but Somethingsomething rises to the challenge with Charisma and Cunning.

"Gnash me, strike me, harm me, Gaia's creatures can't be corrupted, only killed!" A mad peel of laughter makes it clear the Fool! finds folly in his position. He says these things knowing the loyal Wyrmlings around him bristle under such words.

Pax's masked gaze rises up during the howling, fixing itself on the very top of that darkened pyramid above the room itself. It seems to stay there, gazing at something unseen, until the howling is halted. Turning his head, the masked Kin's gaze focuses in on the Bastet cloaked Fool, a silent gaze being kept on Somethingsomething as the Garou begins to move about the room. Other than this, he keeps stock still, making neither sound nor moving from his position. The bat on his shoulder, however, screeches shrilly at the Fool as he passes nearby.

Another voice to add to the deafening call, more than just a desire to howl along, there is a very primal and achingly feral NEED to join in. Azoth tips his own head back while the spirit perched upon it flutters a little before settling with claws grabbing onto the fur present. Large bat-like ears tip back in this as the resonating lupine song pushes forth with its own force of will. It is neither softer nor louder than those nearby who answer and join along. It is not separate, for he is no more individual now than any of his Brothers and Sisters comprising the nightmarish horde in attendance and in witness to their most respected (and most feared) Elders. In truest reflection of the Dark Father, the Wyrm: All are many yet one. In this howl who join: All are as one and whole.

And then the moment ends as there is a sudden appearance! Somethingsomething gets an instinctual growl from the blind Keeper who barks out obscenities in return, like not alone, and the Crinos finds himself panting hotly at the sheer contempt for the stink of this enemy so portrayed. << The Unworthy shall fall. Rake, clash, slash, and consume the flesh! >> calls out a voice of many, no doubt; Azoth twitches along the neck and arms as he drools a steady stream onto the hard ground floor. Buried amidst his brethren, he is not close enough to join in the party game, and yet he participates with heaving breath and excitement all the same.

Something in the big brute's mind cries in abject hatred for the effigy of the Gaian. Knuckles crack and sinew pops as it manifests in an abrupt burst of speed. A pair of large calloused hands reach onto the pelt and with a grip and a swift tug, a small portion of flesh is ripped from the fool's costume by Hazard. Stepping away, he settles to the ground and gnashes upon the Bastet remains. Perfect pearly white teeth tearing and pulling at the flesh beneath the shadow of his hood, his head jerking side to side as over-powered neck muscles assist with rending the little piece of Gaian shifter. This was clearly the brute's kind of party game.

The Fool's dance does bristle the Philodox, but Kurt remains back, holding the line with Eris and the Kinfolk gathered around them. His eyes gleam though, anger and frustration as claws prickle at shoulders for a moment before he restrains himself, back to that sober and somber mood as he focuses on what must be done. Snarling at the Fool as he dances close enough, he kicks one of the three wolves at his feet instead.

Wearing nothing but a black 'Kiss the cook' apron; Helen smells like the numerous cooking meats that would be served later on. Her skin littered with blue pictish glyphs painted on by family members throughout the day. Her hair carried the faint smell of corn and the cabrito - which Helen had learned to make from a recipe book borrowed from the the Den Father's. The goats all freshly killed this morning to slow roast all day. Rotated and turned to cook every fifteen to twenty minutes as needed. With her hands stained in blood and ash, the cliath is replaced by a kinfolk to watch the meats. Freeing her up from the cooking pits. A black robe slipped on so she might catch the current act. A soft howl given to trickle in with the chorus of others as she joins to watch Somethingsomething's performance of the fool. A smile on her lips at the festivities.

Estrella's head rolls forward as the howl suddenly quiets to a warbling chatter and the flayed-cat-clad Fool stumbles and dances through those gathered. She watches with narrowed eyes, her torso swaying back and forth like a mantis or a snake tracking prey, but her expression flashes bright an joyfull as she recognizes the meaty figure and efficient brutality of Hazard. Then he's gone, crumpled to the ground, and she goes back to her glaring, waiting for an opportunity. Kurt merely snarls but, as he does, she raises her hand to a hunk of crystal hanging from her neck. There's a pulse of silver light, and her glowing fingertips on the other hand light up and start screaming like tiny green blowtorches. She takes an admirable swipe at the pathetic mockery, carving out a hunk of meat from the shoulder and leaving the tattered edges of the wound oozing and bubbling.

"Hunt me, Kill me, Eat me, The Sun rises on my destiny." Somethingsomething takes his beatings with a chipper upbeat demeanor for the whole affair. He turns around and wags his butt at the Ritemaster so that his tattered and torn cat tail swishes excitedly. "Nyah, nyah, I am the Night. I am the Stars. I am all the purity of the Cosmos." Then he takes a shit, right there on the floor... he isn't even in Lupus form under that costume. "Yet I still leave a mess." He turns around and points to his steaming punchline. "Every-thing a Gaian touches turns to Shit!" He stands back up and arches his back in a meaningful howl that starts in homid. As he shifts to Crinos the howl grows more complex and he busts out of the rest of his costume.

DevilDolly's Kinfolk jeer and call though Eris tilts her head at the Fool and her lips curl up wickedly. She reaches into the dazed blonde's boot and pulls out a long thin knife and throws it. The thing pegs the 'Lion' right in the butt causing Eris to laugh as she shrinks back down to her homid form and motions for Bobby to hand her her glass of wine while watching the rest of SomethingSomething's performance.

Bobby smiles to Eris as she returns to her human form. He picks up the wine and hands it to her before running his finger along the throne, causing one of the arms to twitch and a light wimper to be heard. He grins and turns back to watch the show.

Hazard outright consumes the portion of Bastet he ripped off the Fool and relishes the forecast of defecating the remains later as one last insult to injury. He slowly rises from the floor, his hood falling off his bald head for a moment before he pulls it back over. He jeers and cheers along with the crowd raising a fist into the air in excitement when the crinos shift rips the remains of the costume.

His gaze then follows the path the thrown knife took retracing it to its origin where he recognizes first the white Crinos that threw it and then the woman she becomes. He nods his head slightly and scans the crowd for other familiar sights noticing one Estrella with some familiarity.

Humor can inspire multifaceted emotions in others; the matter of subject, engagement, timing, delivery, and final point all work together to rouse and elicit reaction. In this, Somethingsomething's portrayal and performance does just that: ire, anger, and disgust are the most obvious (and perhaps the strongest things so inspired), and yet the aspects of vulgarity and crassness lend to a dark comedy with a deceptively fastidious point. Laughter is a given; stating the obvious can be very funny, and yet even more so as the reeling result of enemy caricature! Azoth can laugh at the simple truths, too; so, he does, alongside many of his Family. Even without the complex overtones, even a Fool can earn laughter from the simplest of minds of the crowd along with furthered growls as the sobering truth is just as equally spelled out in one simple act.

After the Fool! has been dealt with torches around the room are snuffed in unison by hooded Kinfolk. A din of panic and laced with the last laughs of those who enjoyed the Fool's performance. The space grows pitch black and the Ritemaster lights a small fire in a basin on the altar with but a gesture of his left hand. In the basin burns coals and incense. The dim flame underlights the Ritemaster's face making him stand out in the pitch black. The music softens until it is but a steady drumbeat without any accompaniment echoing like a heart in the darkness. AnguDa'Staagra speaks in an even tone but his accent is crisp and it cuts through the silence sharply,

<<In our sacred space I call to communion all the Elements of the Wyrm, that we may know them intimately and that we may honor them liberally as the purest embodiment of His Desecration in the World.>>

AnguDa'Staagra waits for the room to fall silent and the darkness to settle in.

After that swipe and the shedding of the Fool's costume, Estrella smiles in satisfaction and turns to raise a hand to Kurt's furred abdomen, eyes following to his face. She beams pridefully at him, then turns back to survey the crowd. Hazard pops back into view, and she can't help but recognize that signature mask of Pax's, so she begins scanning the movement of those gathered, plotting a course through the throng that will take her past her colleagues and safely to the psychoactive offerings by the Hive's Eater of Souls. Her feet shift anxiously beneath her as the light in the temple dims to nothing, standing out like a troupe of fireflies in her wreath of light and phantom flames as she gives up her plans and does her best to be still.

Parts of Eris glow softly, scars and tattoos and a strange sheen in her eyes. They outline her frame as the rest of her pale skin seems almost lost in the shadows and her head tilts a little her eyes flickering towards the flame and Russ once more with laser focus.

The bat on Pax's shoulder continues its screeching until Somethingsomething bursts out of that Bastet hide, at which point it pushes off of the Kin's shoulder and disappears back across the Gauntlet, apparently somewhat riled by the display. Pax himself continues to watch silently, the Kin's gloved hand moving up to adjust his mask as he turns and takes a few steps along the wall to place himself into a better vantage point for the next act. Keeping silent, he eventually stops at another clearer spot near the back, the sudden lack of light seemingly entirely unnoticed as it occurs during his moving. Raising his gaze back to the center of the room, Pax continues to watch, silently taking the rite and ritual for the night behind his mask.

Patting Azoth slowly on the back to make her presence know; Helen's claws offer a relaxing embrace to the Keeper as she settles in next to him. Her yellow wolf eyes roaming the crowd and offering small distant waves to those she knew, but the teen seemed rather quiet and exhausted from todays preparation. A head bow given to Kurt and Eris; but mainly the girls focus was on the rite master and the activities of the moot as she fell quite and listened.

This is the turning point for the Philodox, that summoning of the darkness. Kurt watches intently as Russ begins the ceremony to summon the elements. His place beside the Elder Ragabash and with Estrella putting him at a good vantage to see rhythm as much as feel it as the silence pulses out into the darkness. He let's the feelings swallow him whole as he sways gently to the beat. Only the faint rattle of metal as his Fetishes shift with his movements. Helen's greeting is acknowledged briefly with the faint nod from the horned Metis. Attention focuses more sharply back to Russ as the Moot continues.

Lounging around over near Uuuuurp, Hamish has been keeping quiet throughout a lot of the goings on, mainly due to there being all this food and all these drugs, and damn it *someone* has to put in the consumption work! Surrounded by his boars and pig familiar, probably some of his kinfolk herd, he's hard at work devouring something or another, and sometimes EYEING the homid near him when they inevitably go for the same piece of whatever delicious thing.

Hazard simply stands in rapt attention of the proceedings, the lowering light levels providing him with further anonymity. He reaches up and pulls a piece of cat fur from beneath his teeth casually casting away to the side before adjusting his hood and staring at the Ritemaster.

There is a time for communion. There is a time for play. There is a time for laughter.

This is now a time for silence.

Restlessness lingers even as yips echo and fade into a percussive quietness that is just as dangerous and eerie as the darkness those within the cavernous room are plunged into without much prelude or warning. A large handful within the masses so gathered shuffle about as the urge for more, for things far louder, beckon to them. Respectable peace does not know them, and yet, here and now, they meet one another halfway.

The garish, the nightmarish, the monstrous, and the beautiful look upon the sole figure illuminated. For those with forms or disfigurements or gifts that allow, many eyes staring at the Master of the Rite now show reflectiveness in their gaze from the flame granted by his hand. Those eyeballs, whether or not they can see at all, show attentiveness to the one that before them that has earned the right for it. Azoth among them, their dear Brother AnguDa'Staagra now has the floor and all that it entails. He barely registers the soft embrace within the moment from Sister Qyrllia; he concentrates on the Ritemaster, but also does he concentrate to keep from panting too loudly. The patter of saliva on the stone he can do nothing about.

The Horned Ritemaster raises one of his hands holding a smoldering stick of coal. The cherry on the end of the coal whips through the air allowing the Ritemaster to draw glyphs that seem to linger in the darkness, it is just a trick of the eyes but each glyph he draws is clearly visible for a few seconds as he invokes the spirits by name.

"I call to the Hoglings in the North, creatures of Smog and Reformation, may you bless our Moot in Father's Name." He turns some and draws another Glyph, adding the element of performance to the whole ritual, << I call to the Furmlings in the East, creatures of Balefire and Sulfur, may you bless our Moot in Father's Name. >> He spins around to face the south and he draws the glyph for Toxins high over his head as he invokes, << I call to the Wakshaani, creatures of Toxin and Corruption, may you bless our Moot in Father's name. >> Finally turning to the West he finishes this first part with a drawing of the Sludge glyph. << I call to the H'rugglings, creatures of Sludge and the Revolting Rot, may you bless our Moot in Father's Name. >>

The Kinfolk around the room relight the torches in unison and the Ritemater returns his flaming stick to the basin. AnguDa'Staagra raises both hands palm out, saying more loudly as the din of room noise begins again with the lights on, << I call to Our Totem! >> There is a cheer from the crowd and few deliberate birdcalls. << Whipporwill! >> The Ritemaster shouts the name with a throaty passion lingering in his Scottish accent despite Crinos speech. <<May each and every one of you celebrate the patron bird in your daily lives.>> The accolades to various totems continue on in that manner for some time until finally the Ritemaster is out of spirits to Honor and ideals to bless. <<<Annd now I give the floor to our Philodox, Master of Law, Titan of Punishment, so he may Crack Bones in the name of Our Father.>>

Bird calls, indeed. That Brother Azoth is one of such that hails the glory of Her Name, that Beautiful and Ever-Seeing Greater Incarna Whippoorwill, with matching cries needs not be noted. It is simply a fact that will be and most assuredly is. Of course, this exhaustive exaltation continues through the many spirits so exhaustively named. This Theurge may play favorites, but he still aims to show just as much reverence to all that play a role in granting wisdom and strength to these, the Last Vestiges of Hope, the Chosen Children. And, then, silence reigns once more. A dire silence.

Cracking the Bone is about to begin. Azoth's mouth closes fully forcing his saliva to mostly pool upon the tongue before being swallowed. After all, respect shall now be given or else it shall be taken away.

Eris watches the Ritemaster in quiet reverence. She remains draped over her trembling throne with a hand just draping over the side. Still, the Elder Raggie maintains respectful silence and a dilated focus on the Ritemaster and then his turn is announced, Kurt with a wolfish smile that is hard to see in the heavy shadows. Her draped position gives her the perfect position as if planned from the start to pull one of the cowering wolfs tails with a sharp yank. She doesn't make a sound though.

Finishing her quick back and shoulder rub offered to Azoth; Helen drops her hands to her lap to listen and watch the cracking of the bone. Her breathing coming to a shallow rest - to insure being as quite as possible and let the older Dox speak. Following the moot and ceremony along with her yellow wolf eyes only.

Estrella remains silent, her eyes tracking the motions of the Ritemaster's hand through that tangible darkness with a glimmer of anticipation. The call to Whipporwill carries out and she joins in the mimicing of the nightbird's pleasent little song, her effulgent eyes shutting to pull that shroud of darkness out of the air and into her mind. She doesn't move from her spot, not even a little shift of her feet, but then there's the announcement of Kurt's sacred duties and she spins out on one toe to make sure she's well out of the way of those three who are chained whenever they start to move past her. She would scowl at them, but the prospect of the coming brutality ensures that gleaming smile stays fixed to her face.

Hamish howls his reverence at the end of their Wyrmish Inner Sky to honor their Pit and tribal totem, and of course their elementals, towards the end getting into something of a brief but claws-out slap fight with someone over a portion of food. Food that aids in being quiet during the next portion of things.

At the call for Cracking the Bone, the floor turned over to the somber Philodox, Kurt steps away from the beautiful trappings he's surrounded himself in. Eris and her throne are granted a meaninful look as the Crinos' huge hand slides from her shoulder, his other hand sliding free of Estrella and leaving behind possessive claw marks against the Kin's neck and shoulder. The leather leashes around his wrist are twisted back into his palm and he gives a firm yank to drag the forsaken pack along with him. Forcing them to crawl out in front of the entire Moot like the bad dogs they are. The Elder Ragabash's viciousness making the closest wolf, brown in color and clearly Metis from the bat ears, yelp sharply and then snarl, only to be kicked by the massive Crinos Philodox to get back in line.

This is the Preacher's element and it is immediately evident the moment he exhales a booming growl that echoes through the cavern in subwoofer tone. Silence follows in the wake of that demanding sound as it pounds off of smooth stone walls and pierces the ears of those gathered. Even in the guttural growls and sounds the Revival Tent's influence can be heard, <<Brothers and Sisters of the Father, I am Ka'Mirska, Athro of the half-moon, Bastard of Lord Green Dragon, and chosen servant of his Urge mask Mahsstrac, Knower of Painful Truths, Breaker of Lies. I serve you tonight as the Truthcatcher and I bring you a parable with the Cracking of Bones.>>

The three wolves he has chained are dragged around in a circle, so that everyone might see them, so that he can engage each and every section of onlookers with that powerful gaze. <<Our Dark Litany is our Law and our Way. To stray from the path of righteousness is to bring about self destruction from which there is no rebuilding. Respect All Those Who Serve the Father. The Veil Shall Not Be Lifted. You Shall Take No Action That Causes The Pit to Be Violated!>> his voice echoes again as he reigns in the leads to the three wolves beneath him pointedly. <<Greed and Avarice in measure, Brothers and Sisters. Find your Strength but never at the detriment of the Hive, never at risk of unmasking us, never in disservice to our allies. Sprazt, Herk'end, Frakk, you were found lying to Pentex in order to be funded, outfitted for a take over. Instead, you used these tools to defile churches of the mortal's False God. Leaving a trail of evidence towards the Hive for our enemies to follow.>> Each one in turn is looked at, each one in turn is gifted with the pain of the Philodox's wrath, their bodies doubling over in pain as they howl from psychic anguish.

<<For these reasons you are punished, your arrogance and ambition burned too brightly. Know Brothers and Sisters that their punishment can be yours as well. Know the Dark Litany, live it in your hearts, minds and bodies, or Judgement will find you.>> The leashes are dropped, the already frenzied wolves turning their fury on their tormentor. Ka'Mirska uses that gauntleted fist in several quick, thunderous punches. Sprazt's ribcage cracks audibly through the cave as the wolfdrake's knuckles make loud contact with his sternum the shock wave rippling through the brown wolf's form before he slumps, choke-gasping in agony as his heart stops for a moment. Herk'end jumps his fallen packmate to reach with claws only to have the hammer shaped fist of the Athro drop on top of his skull bringing with it the crickle-crack of a fracture running down from skull to his spine in domino effect - slumping over limp and lifeless. The last simply pisses himself as Kurt falls onto him that first strike followed by a rhythmic rain of blows onto Frakk's limbs leaving arms and legs twisted and bent in unnatural angles, the skin wrinkled where it shouldn't be.

<<The heart, the mind, the body and limbs, they must all strive together to serve Our Father. If one leads, the others can stray. Just as the Triat, just as the Wyrm's Heads, all three keeping balance. And so ends my story, and the Cracking of Bones. May the Father's unholy balefires keep you, Brothers and Sisters.>> The short story with a point is done as quickly as it's over. <<Rite Master.>> Is all he says, turning the floor back to Russ while handing off the bloodied bone gauntlet, passing the honor of the speaking bone to him.

Stepping down from the dais, the wolves are carted away, two of them at least survived the punishment. The Philodox quietly strides back to the high perch of the Defiler Wyrm, and the Lantern of Malfeas.

AnguDa'Staagra takes the bloodied bone Gauntlet and he sets it down on the Altar to show the Cracking of Bones is complete, <<It is a time to celebrate our accomplishments Brothers and Sisters, to bask in the Atrocities we rend in his name... let the Galliards take the floor.>>

The din in the room starts to pick up again as the Cracking ends and the gathered Spirals start cheering on their favorite Galliards, egging them on to get someone to perform something especially vicious.

There is no sympathy for those that endanger their Family so. The Keeper of the Land, through the grace of his head-resting companion, watches the brutality of punishment lain out without flinching. A somber moment laden with underlying anger, the quiet shall not be broken; all must understand the crime and punishment of such public showing...and execution. If anything, this exchange elicits a nod of agreement from Azoth. It is not until the Cracking of Bone is complete that he dares to swivel an ear to the side in Sister Qyrllia's direction where she resides in her directly-to-the-side position. <<Sister, surely you want them to do something great for us this moot. Speak up. This is your Family, too, now.>> His Garou words become lost in the sea of racket as the tension is lost and liveliness returns and he yells along with them. Regale and entertain, storytellers! Only one of you can be the best!

Hazard nods slowly to himself, hood bobbing as he seems rather pleased with himself for coming to observe these festivities. Certain things are simply not done justice by word of mouth. He blinks as the excitement level raises once more. He gazes from side to side wondering if he'll catch a glimpse of one of these famed storytellers. He roams to catch a few different angles of proceedings before rummaging through the crowd to find something drink.

Helen might smirk at that comment from Azoth as the theurge metis is able to finally speak again; a small shake of her head and growl of her voice. <<It is the time for me to listen. I’ll learn from other’s tonight.>>, the cliath says with a rumble in her tired voice. Her skin dripping with sweat from the cooking pits as she fanned her robe to cool off a bit. <<Easier to learn from my fool's mistakes. Rather than being the fool each time.>>

Eris leans in to the sounds of the punishment. Her eyes glimmer and widen and her throne can't help but settle into an uncomfortable low moan as she shifts her weight so much to one side. She observes with a slightl sloof glee at the punishment before once more Angu takes the spotlight only to hand it over to the Galliards.

"I've got somethin." Hamish says, hoisting himself up while finishing eating a bone from some unlucky small animal, cracking it with his teeth and devouring it like the garbage gut he is. As he gets to his feet he shifts to his breed form, clothing melding into his skin to be replaced by fur, shoes vanishing to be replaced by cloven swine hooves. In homid he cuts a slim figure, but in crinos the metis looks positively starved, ribs showing through his radiation warped fur, pigish features of his ears, tusks, and snout clearly apparent.

"The story of 'How I got so angry I beat a motherfucker with another motherfucker.' So there I was, minding my own business at home, when my dear Buzzard Manic Panic arrives and tells me of an easy target, some large hunter killer spider in the spirit world down town paying attention to nothing in particular. Being bored, sensing some inviting fun and with a bit of the moon's blood lust in me I thought, what the hell, let's go eat it. I went back with Manic Panic to where he'd found the thing, and indeed, this huge tank of a spider is perched on the roof of this webby building, ignoring everything else around it, poised with its cannon of a face pointed towards a neighboring building, awaiting orders to fire. On that roof we met a friend of Manic Panic's, a rat, and the three of us set about having some of that fun."

"Now, this thing was big, but we were fast, and in moments we had the armor stripped off its ass with the use of cunning pack tactics. Big and strong or not, a second to tear its armored pants off was all we needed before we were literally crawing up its ass. Well the rat was, any how, right up its spiritual poop schute. Manic Panic fired his pistol fetish and I, well I *tried* to get up its ass too, I like a bit of back door action, but by this point it was definitely paying attention to things. Its cannon swung around to try and shoot our Buzzard, but never fear, I punched it with my own face," Hamish taps his tusks with a tip of his claw, "And avoided harm to a single feather."

He pauses his story telling to STARE at Uuuuurp when she steals food that was on HIS GOD DAMNED PLATE over there... And then gets back into it. "Cannon broken, insides being torn apart, riddled with bullet holes, we tore the thing down in no time, but rather than let that Weaver piece of shit reform elsewhere later, we elected to devour its spiritual essense and erase it from existance. Here Manic Panic discovered where it had been aiming at, and we investigated, discovering it had been lying in wait to fire upon some of our dear corporate wolves during a meeting they planned to have. We warned them of what had almost transpired and thusly were set on the quest of finding the would be assassin."

That swipe of claws across her shoulder draws up a sharp gasp from Estrella. She lets her head roll forward as blood begins to trickle down her back in a trio of rivulets, but keeps her effulgent eyes on the Philodox as he stalks about with the punished. When the Cracking starts, her face lights up again into a wide smile, eyes large and glassy and watching with obvious relish. A gout of phantasmal green flames sputters through the flickering silver of her aura with each blow and she begins to tremble as the sharp sounds of fractured bones echo off the walls above and blood spatters onto the ground. That mummified heart around her neck begins to beat, dryling and silently, in its brazen cage, announcing the presence of a danger in those words of warning the witch is perhaps too comfortable with.

Then its over and her eyes again begin searching the crowd and planning out a route to the table of drugs that calls to her. Kurt returns and she drags her nails across his abdomen and nestles in against him. "That was beautiful." She looks up at him, eyes sparkling, then looks back out over the crowd and slips away to procur something to fix the awful sobriety of her mind.

The Ritemaster howls obvious appreciation for his favorite Galliard and he stands by the Altar listening and cheering or jeering where appropriate.

Eris sulks, she -listens- to the story but the sour bitchy-sulk-face is -epic-. Thankfully it's pretty dark in here. Others however, her kinfolk mostly listen with rapt attention. She upturns her glass of wine and offers it over to Bobby for a refill.

Bobby takes the now empty glass and quickly fetches the bottle to give her a refill. Once the glass is filled back up, he hands it to her carefully as to not spill a drop. He keeps the bottle handy so he can be ready the next time she is empty.

The bestial form of the Crinos Azoth bellows a laugh at 'back door action' and flashes what might be the most cheesy toothy grin that Qyrllia has ever seen from a blind wolf as his very tongue lolls free and dangles wetly. It would seem that the Keeper finds such lewd commentary quite amusing indeed. Of course, that is the entire point! Ugh, is he drooling even more now? While the sightless Theurge may not have nearly as much rage as many of his brethren and thus is not as prone to fits of bloodlust, Tales of Violence are always appreciated nonetheless. His over-sized ears perk up tall in attentiveness to listen to every spoken syllable. ...what happened next?

Kurt rumbles pleasantly at Estrella as she tucks against his huge flank again. Settling his hand over the back of her neck once more as he gives her a wolfish smile. The sulk-face from the Ragabash doesn't come as a surprise. Instead he keeps his focus on the Galliard as he spins his tale, paying respects to Hamish for now.

Jera'woefsken (Hamish) goes on, "The how's and methods of this are boring and not worth going into, but suffice it to say we discovered this was an Ananasi attempting to wage a turf war against wolves it clearly underestimated. The three of us went to the building it was using as its lair, still somewhat under construction, and begain a climb. As Bat followers, naturally we took stealth in this situation seriously, and as we ascended each floor we disbatched bored night security guards, ambushing them from the umbra, slaying them, and using the rat to dispose of their bodies and all evidence before even a whisper of our presence could be known. Poor Manic Panic, he sees all planes of our world, and as we went higher and the reflection of the building became patchier, it became a chore to ensure he didn't fall through the floor, seeing one plane to the detriment of the other."

"Up at the very peak, we discovered traps in the webbing. The rat was to be our anti-Weaver insurance, as rats are wont to be, but alas, the little fucker somehow managed to fail us in this and triggered the alarms of the Ananasi. Cover blown, there was nothing for it but to tear our way through the gauntlet and go to work against those that were ready for us. It turned out to be TWO spiders, unfortunately, but we had taken steps for our safety. We had poisoned our blood and doused our hides with it, and when the battle was on we threw ourselves at the Weaver spawn, burning and clawing at them. As with the tank spider, they were tough but we were fast, and one of them was torn limb from wriggling limb in moments."

"The second was not quite so easily disbatched, however. It stung the rat with barbs that sent him into a days long deep sleep, and it took shots from the Buzzard's revolver and my own claws as if it were made of steel and couldn't feel a thing. While we were engaged, a pair of its kinfolk came to its aid, one killed right away before she could work her sorcery, but the other attempted to strike me and threw a great, annoying monkey wrench into an otherwise epic fight, which was then made more of a hassle when the god damned Spider began to fall apart into a swarm of little creepy crawlies. Again, we came prepared, flamethrowers were had and Manic Panic took up arms with one, spraying fire to keep the little beasts from escaping. I was supposed to help with this in the same way, I had the means and the equipment, but that kinfolk REALLY pissed me off."

Jera'woefsken pauses again to look at Uuuuurp taking more of his delicious things and loses his god damned mind. "So I picked up this useless fucking fuck," he says, while clopping over to do that exact same with some poor scrawny, disfigured-by-balefire kinfolk that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Grabbing him up by the ankles, he begins to use the kinfolk to beat Uuuuurp while screaming, "FUCK YOU SPIDERS! THAT'S MY PURSE! I'LLFUCKINGKILLYOU!" This is... probably not *quite* what happened in the real story, likely he wasn't screaming about purses at the time, any how. He did beat a pile of spiders to death with a kinfolk bludgeoning weapon, though. That part's totally true. Story Time by Hambone devolves into snarling, snapping, and clawing as he and Uuuurp go at it and appear to be actually trying to eat each other, the (totally dead) unlucky kinfolk-club flung aside in favor of biting the other elder. It seems like a fairly evenly matched fight, for the most part, Uuuuurp has the armor of fat and Jera'woefsken has the speed of the starved. Alas, though, he also has a loyal pack of fomori-boar that insert themselves unbidden into the brawl on Hamish's side to give him an edge.

Slipping a rather thick joint from her cooking apron; Helen lights some of the Den Father’s weed so she can pay close attention to his story. Lighting the end, the teen blinked softly with her yellow eyes and blew some smoke towards Azoth's muzzle. <<Den Father's and his pack are badasses! They broke a spider's cannon and snuck in through the back door. Weaver-dick weak.>>, the cliath says with enthusiasm and a soft chuckle - paying attention to the story. Sounds of killing spiders - was growing confidence in others. As suddenly Hamish starts using a kinfolk as a weapon to beat down another mother fucker in the pit. << I heard that's how kinfolk hammer's were first made. >>, she jokes to Azoth who might not be able to see the action.

With the telling of tales complete the Ritemaster makes one final announcement and he calls out in a booming voice to do it, << In Decemeber we will meet in the desert to sacrifice a Gaian Garou. He needs to be alive for the Seaonal Ritual to work... anyone who can provide the appropriate sacrifice will recieve a talen of my choosing. I will also put in a good word for you with the Spirits. >> That said he clears his throat, << Go now and enjoy the feast prepared for us by Sister Helen and some of the other Cliath. The ritual is complete! Now is the time of the Revel! >>

It is sometime near the end of Jera'woefsken's story (and the moot!), that Zora will slip into the shattered temple, which she has visited once or twice in the past. Her combat boots crunch over the fragments of bones that have been left scattered around by the kinfolk. She leans up against one of the cave stalagmates, with her arms folded beneath her breasts, right up until it turns into something of a brawl as the boar fomori come charging in. Then she'll push away, cutting in the general direction of Kurt and Estrella. She sidles up to the Director, and then makes sure he knows she's there, by giving him a quick elbow in his bestial ribcage, "Having a nice time?" She wonders in her deceptively quiet, dark and raspy voice.

Eris would normally dissapear at this point but she cannot anymore. So instead she lounges, smiling toothily at Bobby for delivering her wine to her. Her eyes close and she listens to the sounds of the Revel starting up for a few moments. Her Kinfolk have almost all devolved at this point, high and drunk and full of.. energy.

If no other Galliard wishes to regale the crowd further, and even if they do, that leaves those present able to enjoy the company of one another without any negative repercussion just the same. Go eat! Go drink! Get high! Make some sweet sweet love! Now is the time to fall upon one's true nature, relinquish to one's instinct, and enjoy the togetherness of Family. Surely the horde of wolves and kinfolk gathered need no excuse, they need no direction, and will promptly fall into the groove of which their needles fit with the least scratching. As for Azoth? He is very tired, but there is food (and a fight over some of it) and some glorious forms of self-medication. Tempting. So damn tempting. While having a clear head would make the following proceedings with the spirits bearing witness to the events of the moot easier, he must remain true to himself. << I need something strong, my dear Sister, of which to take the edge off. Suggestions? >>

Estrella has alllmost made it to the tables of offerings by the time that Hamish's story concludes, but not quite far enough to manage anything off the table before her path is blocked by a pack of boar Fomori and the scuffle between the Eater of Souls and the Den Father. She freezes in place, spine suddenly stiff, her aura tremoring as her hands come out in front of her, and she sloooowly turns around to slink back over towards Kurt and (relative) safety without so much as a drop of booze to calm her busy mind.

"Major!" She smiles brightly and waves as Zora as she approaches, then tucks back in against the wolfdrake and returns her attention to the circle where the fight is going on, waiting for an opening.

Bobby smiles to Eris, "Is there anything you would like me to get from the food table?" He pours a bit more wine into her glass filling it back up.

<< I can sprinkle your roast with Vicodin; Azoth. Perhaps it will help ease your mine and let you sleep well tonight. You look weary - and a night's rest could do you well? >>, Helen suggests while slowly standing. << Or, would you like me to fetch your pipe for you quickly? I can ask a kinfolk to bring it? >>, Helen says to the metis in their native tongue before waving one of the many kinfolk over for a simple fetch. << Would you like a beer as well, I can bring a pitcher to drink out of. >>

The Ritemaster steps down from the Altar and heads over to socialize with Eris and give her twisted throne a slightly closer look, "Inspired designwork there... I almost couldn't take my eyes off yer damned setup over here and keep focused on the Ritual." His words morph back into English as he shifts down from his Crinos form. He looks to Kurt and nods to the Philodox, "Remind me again why we don't call you Truthcatcher... Mishka?" Was it? He messed up the 'Dox new right name with a cheeky smile and a snort.. The rest of the room gets a once over and the Ritemaster searches for familiar faces with a somber grin on his pleased face. He doesn't even need a drink right now cause he's still high off the Ritework.

The bloody fight over near the food, booze, and drugs (a bulk of those things, any how) results in several things knocked over, some bystander kicked right in the furry bean bag when he didn't get out of the way fast enough, and a fair amount of blood spurting. Things begin to die down over there, and in a pretty literal sort of way, until it's pigs and metis snacking on a slightly twitching homid. Having just eaten the Eater of Souls, Hamish gets into a slight greed frenzy, so to speak. "Mine! This is mine! MINEMINEMINE!" he snaps and starts making a pile out of the elder and various things nearby that belonged to her, even snapping at his pig pals, until he's actually sitting on a hoard of meat, drugs, several badly stained pillows and a bunch of other crap like a proper Vorus follower.

Eris shakes her head and mrmurs, "Nope. Just make sure the people fucking get out of the way of the hungry ones if they roll this way." She mutters darkly to Bobby before looking up. Her eyes widen and a smile curls her lipped, "Well consider the feeling mutual, Hanged Man. I have to say for the first Moot I've chosen to attend in years I might just have to come to another." Eris reaches up to curl a finger into some of the ruddy fur on the Ritemaster's hip as she shifts her weight and the now exsausted, sore and bone wearing human-throne send out a little symphony of everything from muffled moans to outright sobs. She does this to look around to where the fight has been one and she coos, "Well would you look at that." She looks up at Russ. "Eventful."

<<Narcotics -and- alcohol? Could be a good start. But I'd rather not risk my pipe amongst this throng. It will wait for me just fine until I'm able to make it back to my chamber.>> Azoth waits a beat, then shakes his head while the bird atop his noggin and between his ears flutters in protest. <<Actually, I think I'll retreat now. I'm barely standing from exhaustion and the buzz from the moot has lessened now that the main proceedings have finished. If you desire dropping some things off later, however, I should be available for conversation before sleep, Sister.>> The big ugly wolf smiles softly in wolven body language. <<But I encourage you to go socialize here before then.>>

Kurt watches as the Moot devolves into the frenzied after party and smiles wickedly. The appearance of Zora is surprising but it brings a toothsome smile to the wolfdrake. The Den Father gets into it with Uuurp and he can't help but flash a knowing menacing look over at Ripper Jack, his intent and challenge clear but now is the time for revel. A low growl is given as Zora elbows his ribs and he turns in against her to nip at her shoulder with his maw. While the rest of the Hive gets to celebrating, the Philodox maintains his low roiling simmer of rage, his muscles just flexing and twittering beneath the scales and fur and scars. His attention shifts to the Ritemaster and he chuckles darkly in a wheeze. <<Ka'Mirska, Rite Master. Remember it well, or I will just have to jog your memory.>> As Hamish claims his place among the elders the Philodox howls across the pit of challenge. <<Name the place Fraa'zakt, I will expose your weakness and break you for it,>> he growls out before a bristling snarl.

"Look at wha-" Russ begins and his horned head swivels as he slides a hand around the Elder Ragabash's hips when she slinks closer, he chuckles and finally see what's she's talking about, "Ain't that something else." He canes his neck to watch as Hamish devours his destiny, "I can't say I saw that coming... and I read the entrails of -several- different goats this afternoon." After a beat Russ glances back to Kurt and his threats, "Ka'Mirska, I owe you a Storm in a Bottle. Tonight was perfection." The threats seem to go in one ear and out the other as the satisfied Ritemaster basks in the developing Revel.

"... Holy shit." Estrella's eyes are stuck in rapture to the brief but gorey end to Hamish's supremacy scuffle with Uuuuurp. Uuurp. Ur... Whatever, she's gone now. "Holy *shit!*" The witch cackles gleefully, but that sound is swallowed up abruptly as she silences herself to make way for Kurt's voice as she speaks, eyes glancing furtively between him and the Major before she looks back over to the new-and-feasting Eater of Souls and those trays of precious intoxicants. "Excuse me. Back in a moment." She slips out from the little circle of titans she's found herself surrounded by and slinks over to procure something.

Her eyes glitter with anticipation as she surveys the offerings and traces a finger very carefully about before settling on some ovoid white pills, which she gathers up in a handful and washes down with a few swigs off of a can of beer. Drugs finally imbibd, she relaxes in ways she hasn't for hours, shoulders rolling back, a happy little coo spills from her black lips, and she turns to wave in greeting to Helen and Azoth, then faces Hamish and bows her head before slipping back to where she was, carrying her beer with her.

<<-Aye. Head to your bed, Keeper. I will bring you food and drink later.>>, sweaty Helen said while fanning her robe once more. The cooking pits were hot, but amongst the throngs of kinfolk and garou - it was sweltering up here as well. The girl never getting a chance to cool down as she smeared some of the blue pictish glyphs drawn on her body. Hugging while stranding, <<You and rite master did a great job.>>, Helen whispered before parting with Azoth to seek others.

Zora watches as the Hamish-Monster tears into the previous generation of leadership, with what won't seem like all that much resistance! Her dirty blonde mane of hair is swept up underneath a black beret with a silver death's head pinned to it, though when she tilts her head, a single blood-streaked tendril will escape from underneath. She'll be briefly distracted by Estrella's gaspy little exclamation, whereupon she'll glance down at the girl - and just look at her for a moment, with her balefire aura and exotic attire. Then she shifts her dead, pale gray eyes over to Kurt, staring at the Philodox, even as he stares malevolently over at Ripper Jack.

The little Raggie folloes her urge and gravitates into the Rite Master when his hand finds her hip. She watches the blood covered Galliard for a few moments longer. Kurt and his Kinfolk get a incline of her head as she smiles towards the Philodox. "Well there's your answer why he doesn't want to try something as foolish as catching truths, Russ. He's too busy eyeing the bigger fish as always." She leans up to nip at the redheaded Metis' ear before pulling back into her wriggling and writhing throne.

Hamish eats! Because of course he does. Eventually though he gets his shit together, you know more or less, and gets up off his pile, picking up his Pig familiar and setting the swine on top in his place. "Guard my stuff." he says before he walks off. As he leaves, the Pig oinks her dutiful obedience... And then starts eating Hamish's stuff, like he's not going to notice later. (He probably wont.) Meanwhile, he strides on over towards... The PCs, basically. Shrinking down into Homid again, the somewhat torn up, limping, blood soaked Galliard smiles brightly at those he knows and doesn't know alike, and asks to whoever chooses to answer, "Anyone got a bone saw I can borrow real quick? I need some.. Parts. For uh. Ritual stuff."

Estrella may be surprised when her greeting to Qyrllia and Azoth is met with a direct stare from the blind one...who then lifts a hand in return gesture. <<The glory of this moot is not mine to claim, as I am but one of many, but I shall take the compliment anyway.>> He'll just fold it up and put it in his pocke- Uh. <<Off with me, then.>> The Keeper turns away and begins to wind his way through the multitude whom are around and about. He even manages it without bumping into anybody and starting a fight, which is something. He does end with a Whippoorwill call, however, which may or may not get echoes about the chamber from others.

Kurt continues that threatening staredown until the Ahroun is forced to return to the Revel and promptly begins to punch his minions and tear into them out of frustration. His challenge stated publicly he swings his attention to Russ and Eris for a moment with a toothsome smile, <<Bigger fish indeed, but I will fill in as Truthcatcher until one can take the position more permanently,>> he offers before preening a little towards the Theurge in particular. <<Your Moot is a success, Puck, pride and honor are yours rightly. Sneer if you wish, but I am proud of you, Brother.>> Estrella slips off but he keeps an eye on her, much as he keeps an eye on Zora - not for her safety though. <<We will reignite this Pit into something truly horrific I believe,>> it makes him immensely happy. A glance to Eris' throne and he chuffs, <<Surprised they held out for the whole thing,>> he teases the blonde.

Kurt doesn't ignore Hammy as he comes over though, giving him a snap of teeth, <<No saws, but don't you have claws and muscle?>> a teasing, toothy grin.

Bobby glances around and then looks down at Eris' throne, making sure all the bonds are still tight. He leans down and tightens a few of them so it doesn't fall apart.

Russ is standing close with Eris when Hamish walks over and asks for a bone saw... he furrows his brows and turns to the Ragabash, "I think I have a bone saw at the Vineyard.. unless we burned it?" Russ looks back to Kurt with raise of both brows and a sharp toothed grin, "It is not My Moot but Our Moot." He says the words but there is a haughty possesive grin on his face for what just happened here tonight, looking back to Hamish he adds, "Congratulations on your dinner!"

Snapping up a nearby beer pitcher from a carried tray, the teen does her best to not spill it - which she does. But only enough for some lupus wolves to lap up and enjoy as the girl lazily makes her way towards the Ritemaster. There would probably be many to greet him and congratulate him on the successful moot; as Helen piled over to the older spirals. <<For you Rite Master. In case you are thirsty from all that speaking. I think everyone was great.>>, Helen says to Russ while offering the pitcher of beer.

Estrella is certainly not surprised anymore when Azoth seems to look right at her. Every encounter with the Landkeeper has been puncuated by precisely that kind of gesture and it no longer phases her-- and she's got that pleasent sensation as the alcohol and opiates hit her stomach and begin to warm her, so it is doubtless that, in that moment, anything could really bring her pause. So there she stands, cheeks warming as the drugs begin to hit her, her smile becoming more gentle and less given to twittering flashes. Even the flickering of her aura slows to a syrupy constant and she lets herself fall against Kurt's side, happily taking advantage of his size to support her weight.

The witch wears a cloak of deferential silence as her elders speak amongst themselves, nodding her head in return to Eris with a gleam in her eye and then letting her glassy eyes swim between the rest. She smiles broadly and waves to Helen, then nods eagerly in Hamish's direction as Russ congratulates him as though her approval might mean something. Eris shakes her head at Bobby. No food for her. Then Eris smirks at Kurt, "I haven't gotten into the Revelry yet." She counters with a little curl of her lip. Bobby's efforts gain him a pleased little smile. "I'm surprised you're not drunk off everything yet, Robert." Despite her eyes on the Kinfolk but Russ is in touching distance so he's enduring the tiny little slashes and pricks of the Raggie's nails."No. You didn't burn all of your things. Just most." She looks up and sneers a little but a mumbled congradulations echoes from the Defiler Wyrm as well her lashes cast down and her expression sullen. Since Russ -is- close he ets to endure a bite for her mood. Helen's given a quick once over and a little nod. Nicola goes home. Nicola has left.

Hamish grins at Russ and says, "It sure as shit wasn't what I planned to do, but that was pretty fun." Nothing like a little murder and canibalism to really make a moot turn out awesome! "Also, have you been working on your showmanship? Cause it's working." He waggles his head at Kurt then in a 'yes but' kind of way, while saying, "Yeah but that'll make uneven tears and the head wont sit correctly, and that's *important*! Everything has to be just so or it throws the whole damned ritual off and I end up waking up three days later convinced my name is Henry and I'm some kind of action movie star with a stutter. I've done that, and it's awful. It's really awful. ...You've got kin on you." he adds, gesturing at Estrella, and in exactly the same accent as if saying to Shaun, 'you've got red on you'. A waggle of his fingers at the blind wolf, and then attempts to scritch under Helen's chin with a "Hi there, Piglet."

Zora briefly closes her dead, pale gray eyes as she listens to something over her sub-dermal. Then she glances at the inside of her wrist where her commando watch is strapped. She studies the time for just a moment, and then she'll nod over to Kurt, "I need to deal with that thing we talked about," She tells the Director, and even though that could literally apply to about a hundred different situations, she seems to expect that the sheer deadpan flatness of her tone will adequately convey who she is referring to. She passes her gaze over those assembled once more, taking in the sight of the familiar Maximo and Estrella, as well as those she's somewhat less acquainted with, such as the bloody Hamish and Eris. Instead of offering any goodbyes, she simply turns and strides away.

Kurt gives Hamish a wolfish smile while his big paw gets fresh with Estrella in her barely there ritual clothing. <<Hamish have you met Estrella yet? Estrella this is the Den Father, and forever my little brother, Hamish,>> He grins and snaps his jaws playfully at the Elder Galliard. Introductions made, he turns his focus to Zora, the twitches of his muscles coming faster as she speaks. He nods then, his head tilting to dismiss the Major without fanfare. Back to the other wolves, his former pack at that. <<So many I told you so's, so little time,>> the obnoxious Dox tells them all.

Russ hisses and grins at Eris as she picks at him while he tries to talk, the bite causing little more reaction than a break in his speech, "Oh look bee- ayeh-er." He reaches for the pitcher and acknowledges Helen with a nod, "Good work." He raises the pitcher in silent thanks, beer was always good work! Russ chugs down a third of the beer and then looks to Hamish, saying, "Natural talent." As if that explains his showmanship and the Galliards own success in one simple concept. The ritemaster even raises his mug as he says it making a toast out of the smarmy quip. Then he drinks to Natural Talent and finishes the pitcher of beer. Only when the Major is dismissed does Russ even seem to notice her, "Whose the suit?"

Helen can be scritched by Hamish all he wants; it’s not likely she could stop him even if she tried. Just going along with the behavior as she offers a grin and head bobs with excitement with the bloody claw at her throat, "Promotion, huh? What a good night! Let me get some of the kinfolk gals to bring over the Cabrito we’ve been cooking all day. The cook book I borrowed from you - Hamish, was really helpful. I seasoned it, just like it said to do with the hand written notes." The teen offers with a smile before waving at Ella, Bobby, Eris and Kurt. "Hey guys, how are you?", the stoned and tired teen said as she waved a flock of kinfolk from the pits to the revelry. They were all naked like Helen was; but wearing black aprons as chains connected their feet and hands like a prison crew chain-gang. Carrying platters of cabrito, jerked chicken and pulled pork and pot roast. The kinfolk prison crew dropped off warm plates before heading back to the kitchen for more, while another tattered ten-man working crew brought out more food for a different head of the wyrm.

Eris watches Zora go with a little smirk, "You met her at Blackfork. The Major who is so much like my Mother I might want to kill her. If it wasn't rude." She nods towards Kurt before looking back to Russ, content to half press herself against the Rite Master in the most uncomfortable way possible for the throne of Kinfolk. She looks back at the mass of bodies enjoying raw instinct and open revalry. But she doesn't look for long instead she draws a pair of Kinfolk to replace her on the throne and murmurs instructions for them to be cut loose before she starts padding off nails trailing down Russ arm leaving deeper welts until she's too far to touch him anymore. She wiggles her fingers at the Kinfolk on her way past.

Estrella presses her lips and glances up to Kurt. She shakes her head, "No, can't say I have. I mean-- I saw him my first night in town--" Her lips clap shut again before she finds herself rambling along the surging tide of intoxication. "Hi!" She smiles, lifting herself up off of Kurt to wave and then gather her hands in front of her politely. "Uhm... congratulations, I guess? Is that appropriate? That was one of the most spectacular things I've seen in a while, they way you nearly swallowed that bitch whole. Nice to meet you!" Her lips flicker into a little pout as she watches Zora leave, but she turns her head back to the Garou gathered and promptly falls against Kurt again with a giggle.

"That's a good question," Hamish says to Estrella, "What *do* you say when someone eats someone else? I have no idea, but I'll take it, thanks. I'll try and keep up with assisting the kin and young though any how, at least until someone else sacks up into the Nanny spot." I also totally missed Eris's pose earlier, and before she gets away he attempts to swat her on the butt with a, "Thanks." for her own congradulations and what not. "You know what, I heard you can do that, swallow someone's hole. Like.. Not really even eat them, just put them in like... An umbral stomach realm for a bit. Blows my fucking mind." And, belated though they might be, he puts greetings upon Kurt and Russ in the form of headbutts and snorfles. He also adds to Russ, "Hey, if you haven't tried that healing stick out yet, I could use some later if you wouldn't mind." He gestures to his various bite and claw marks.