There is a buzzing at the gates below. Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Alicia and company squints upwards as she lets out a huff, frustration evident on her face, as well as pent up anxiety.

Kenneth looks like he's about to throw the glass of water somewhere, but through sheer willpower does he manage to hold onto it and not break it. The ahroun's already trashed the loft enough. "Fine. ... Fine..." His additional commentary is cut off with the sharp buzzing of the loft's com. Looking over, the halfmoon almost seriously wants to ignore the insistent noise. And he does, for a little bit. Let whoever it is down there wait. "But you /know/ that all this'll prove to the other fools out there, is that Requiem was a fuckin' joke. That all our talk was just that, talk. That you and Dillen gettin' fucked up by Fenris was all for shit." Finally, the incessant buzzing calls the halfmoon away, and he goes to the com to press the button. "What?" he growls, a bit more angry and tense than he wanted it to be.

Grey stands to Alicia's left and a little behind her, his expression grim, hands folded into the pockets of his coat.

"Its Alicia, we're here for Lucas." The Child of Gaia says as she pulls her jacket a bit closer about her. "We're taking him to the barn per instruction of Megan." She says, her voice sounding even, business as usual.

Back and forth, back and force Lucas paces, everything about him rigid and tense. His eyes narrow at the voice over the speaker and his lips twitch back in the starts of a growl, but the Glabro'd and clawed up Ahroun stops in his pacing and stands near the couch, eyes fixing themselves on the door.

After a moment, Jarred emerges from his room scowling. "What the devil is all the noise for out here? And who's buzzing down there?"

Kenneth narrows his eyes at the com, takes his finger off the button and then looks back over to the ahroun. "Lucas," the halfmoon notes grimly, lowly, "I told you awhile back that I said I'd kill you if you started eatin' women and children. But I figure right now... it can wait. I ain't gonna lose to these guys." Glancing upstairs quickly, he then presses the button again and says into the intercom, "Yeah, come on up." He waits by the elevator after, positioning himself so that he could see who comes out of the elevator, as well as Jarred coming out from his room.

"Thank you." Comes the cool voice of Alicia as she waits for the elevator to reach the bottom and open. Glancing to Thomas and Signe, she tilts her chin upwards a bit and lets out a slow sigh, but quickly regains her confidence as she steps through, holding her hand out to keep the doors open.
Lucas slowly shifts his eyes away from the door and up to the balcony where Jarred stands, and the look the Elder gets borders on murder. But then everyone comes inside and he jerks his head back to face them, reflexivly bristling like a cornered and caged animal. He remains, however, silent.

Jarred's eyes flick over to Alicia at the doors. He walks forward. Even as he does, he takes in the wreckage of Shadow's End. The look of murder in Lucas' eyes is returned. And then some. He grumbles under his breath, then looks back to Alicia. "Alicia. How can... I help you?"
Grey catches hold of the door, letting Alicia and Signe enter the Shadow Lords' lair first. As he comes in last, he lets the door close behind them, then resumes his place at the Gaian's left, arms folded across his chest and his expression stony.

Signe is thinner and a little paler than those at Shadow's end might remember, but she otherwise exudes the same intimidating presence. She steps in in front of Thomas, her dark eyes and set scowl moving to take in the place. At least for this trip, however, she waits beside Alicia--letting the Gaian do the talking.

"The proud do not endure, they are like a dream on a spring night... the mighty fall at last - they are as dust before the wind." The quiet quotation comes from Kenneth, who takes a fair step back when the elevator doors open and admit not just Alicia, but someone he's never seen and Signe, of all people. His eyes narrow slightly at Grey, but the halfmoon keeps from questioning aloud in the presence of all the elders. He takes another step, closer to Lucas than anyone else. Jarred only receives a second's glance as Kenneth keeps more of his focus on the trio from the elevator.

The eyes of the Child of Gaia fall upon Lucas for a long moment, before regarding Jarred as she says in a calm down, dark eyes casting upwards a tad. "I have been instructed by Megan Rhya to escort Lucas to the Bawn where he will be kept under watch until the Cracking of the Moot this Wednsday." She says, folding her hands behind her. "Its a matter of Sept business." With a shift of her gaze back to the Ahroun, she says. "And I also am under strict orders to make sure that no harm will come to you and that it is my sole duty to ensure your protection."

Jarred cocks his head slightly at Alicia. "Megan has ordered this, has she... Nevertheless, I require an explanation. I am not accustomed to turning my Shadow Lords over to other tribes without good reason."

Signe's natural scowl curls into a sneer. "Making Scooby snacks of the locals is a good enough reason, if you ask me." Her eyes narrow on Jarred, and she looks like she wants to say more.
Only a Garou can stand there facing such an escort when he looks like he got into a very recent fight with a Cuisinart. Lucas gives each and every one of them a close, impassive look which slowly shifts towards Jarred when he speaks. He rolls his shoulders back as he steps up to stand beside Kenneth.

Kenneth grits his teeth at the Get Jarl's comment, glass in hand being squeezed once more. Though he doesn't look directly at any one of them, it's obvious his attentions are focused on the conversation, and Jarred's words in particular.

Grey, for his part, says nothing, though his gaze remains cold and impassive over a tightly-leashed temper. Lucas and Kenneth each get a long look from the tall, scarred stranger, but Jarred gets the lion's share of his attention.

"I had the pleasure of digging out eight half devoured bodies from a walk in storm drain in Requiem's territory, among a dozen or so dogs and cats which Lucas has been feasting on. After he attacked me and my tribe mate, I then preformed the Rite of Cleansing upon him with the support of Tobin of the Silver Fangs, when we both found Lucas to be 'highly' tainted of the Wyrm." Alicia says as she continues to keep her voice even, taking in a slow, controlled breath. "It seems to be that your Shadow Lords have been 'neglected' and that after futher investigation, completely ignored and then 'kept secret' of this condition as it got worse and worse. Running around the city in Hispo and Crinos, eating people while tainted, and then coming to the Caern during our moot is more than enough reason to upset a few feather's, especially when it has been so blantantly obvious." She rumbles quietly in her throat. "Regardless, this will be a conversation that I am sure everyone will have with the Master during the Cracking at the Moot, until then, Lucas is to be guided into Sept protection so that all can have a fair trial." She lifts up a brow slightly. "Right now, I would seriously consider being compliant and letting this run smoothly."

Jarred moves forward, toward the trio. "That's outrageous. I have already taken up the matter with my packmate, a fostern theurge. He was of the opinion that this was more than a run-of-the-mill tainting, despite your gallant attempt at being a theurge yourself, Alicia. I ordered Kenneth and Dillen to be silent because we hoped that this could be handled *within* the tribe. Megan is well known for using situations like these to dispose of those who belong to tribes she despises. She'll use this to her political advantage." His lip curls. "And like the obsequious pawn you are, Guards-the-Flame, you naturally ran straight to her with your news, no doubt hoping to be recognized for your juicy discovery among the galliards."

Lucas turns his gaze straight to Alicia, skipping over everyone else and focusing his attention directly on her as he takes a few steps forward. He then says evenly right over the end of Jarred as though he held no further regard for the Elder. "I'll go."

Kenneth looks up at Jarred as his tribe elder speaks, but the more he says, the more the halfmoon's brows narrow and his eyes struggle to keep from widening. The incredulity, however, is right there plain as the nose on Kenneth's face. "You're fuckin' jokin', right?" he asks towards his own elder.

"Actually, Jarred." Alicia says smoothly. "This is /my/ operation and I am no one's pawn. I only sought out Megan for advice on the matter. But, regardless, I'm not going to stoop to name calling. James, as a Fostern Theurge, didn't bother to run a simple ritual such as Cleansing upon him that would have been the difference between eight deaths and a near attempt at a veil breech." She steers her eyes straight at the Shadow Lord Elder. "Combat the Wyrm wherever it dwells and breeds, even if its /within yourself/. That is what -you- failed to do. You failed to help your tribe mate and you let him grow worse and because of that, he was not in control of his own actions. Whatever idea you and James cooked up, it obviously /never/ fell through, and regardless.. Lucas is not the Get's responsibility, he is yours." She says, sucking in a slow breath. "Despite how you feel about me, personal or not, this is just business. I live for the Sept and for the responsibility of this Caern. I can hardly care about the politics or the brown nosing. I got a job to do." She keeps a straight face the entire time, glancing to Lucas. "Thank you for your cooperation. Its much appreciated."

Signe waits til Alicia's done before speaking. "/James/" she growls out, "Will also be dealt with for his failures in this. But if you think your double-talk and accusations will get /you/ out of this, Jarred, you're fucked in the head. You /ordered/ Dillen to keep silent? And because of all of your 'handling', we've got a huge mess on our hands. I'm half tempted to rip you a new asshole, right here and now."

Jarred snarls. "Come then, you piece of Get shit!"

Grey's impassivity cracks as his upper lip curls away from his teeth in a snarl.

Lucas pauses halfway to the other side of the gathering when the Lord Elder snarls, and the look the Ahroun gives him is one of disgust and derision. Then he just turns his back and keeps walking towards the escort and Alicia in specific.

Kenneth utters a low foreign curse just after Jarred snarls, invisible hackles just about the shoot out - such is the tension running through him. Still, the youth starts to move, but only so that he can get in between his tribe elder and the Get elder. A wary, but cold stare is given to the both of them. "Signe... Rhya. With all due respect, there's enough Litany breakin' out on the table already. Don't go dumpin' shit over the Territory one either, yeah?" His words come out low, attempting at calm neutrality. The look he gives Jarred is one that dares him to make a move at the four by the elevator.

Signe seems about to oblige, her body coiled and tense like a snake's. The only thing that erupts, however, is a wicked grin. She nods toward Kenneth, thinking the same thing. "I said half-tempted. You'll need a better insult than that to to get me to attack you in your own house." she glances at Alicia, asking the Gaian. "What /about/ him, anyway? He's the one most guilty, in my opinion. Shouldn't /he/ be the one we take to the bawn til the cracking?"

Jarred smiles coldly. "Oh, I'd like that, Signe. But it'll take a little more than your brainpower to pin all of this on me. Neither of you have the slightest idea what you're talking about, nor of the lengths to which I've gone to try and help Lucas..... Fine. Take him. He seems eager to be rid of this place. Perhaps the barn will do him soom good."

Letting out a breath, Alicia looks tense, especially at the back and forth between Jarred and the Jarl. She steps between them quickly, smoothing down her shirt. "There doesn't have to be blood shed, at least not tonight. If you two want to throw down, then do so at the Moot with the Master present." She glances to Signe, then looks back to Jarred. "Your prescence is of course, required to be at the Moot, being an Elder and representative of your tribe. You can at least speak your case to the Master."

Lucas stands a short distance away from Alicia with his arms folded across his chest, a frown set on his face as he turns once more to regard Jarred. "It'll get me away from you, and while we're making low blows, there's something you should know, Kenneth. Our Elder told me before our Rite of Passage that if your weakness hampered my success that I should kill you."

Grey's gaze flicks over to Kenneth, his expression still tight with repressed rage but regaining a little of its previous impassivity. The younger Philodox finds himself scrutinized.

Signe counters, "Frankly, I don't care what you've done for Lucas. I only care about what you failed to do. And as for pinning things on you, there's no need. You already admitted it in your little speech a few minutes ago." At Alicia's words, however, she does look mildly disappointed. At least until she looks back to the Shadow Lord elder. "I'll tell you this, too, Jarred. If you fail to show up, it won't matter where you go, someday, I'll find you."

Jarred shakes his head in disbelief. "I truly misjudged you, Lucas. If you honestly believe that's what I told you, then you have the nature of that one there.. " he gestures to Signe, "A mindless animal."

Kenneth keeps his eye on Jarred, again that incredulous expression at the elder's bold words switches to blank. He turns to look back at Lucas, black eyes staring at the ahroun like maybe he'd grown a second head at first. Then, he looks back at Jarred. Regardless of what was said before, he questions of his elder. "Did you really tell him that? To kill me if I wasn't cuttin' it?"

Jarred says simply, "No. I did not. I told him that in a Rite of Passage, his job was to succeed, even if that meant that only one of you made it through. He was not to coddle you if you proved too weak. I also indicated that he should not expect you to carry him either. Teamwork is only valid until it becomes a liability. As a Shadow Lord, you should know this already. If you are worthy of the blood that runs through your veins, you should know it."

Signe looks between all three Shadow Lords, Jarred's insult apparently having little effect beyond another small sneer.

Letting out one hard breath after the other, Alicia glances between each person as they talk, hands at her sides, fingers curling slightly with instinct as she darts her eyes to Lucas, then to Ken, then back to Jarred.

Lucas peels his lips back and turns, walking back towards the other two of his tribe, standing beside Kenneth and sneering at Jarred. "Kenneth was never the weak one." He says, and the hate in his voice boils up and up, first into a growl and then into a full-fledged roar that shakes the rafters as Lucas pours himself into the form of war and lunges at the Fostern, claws flying in the blinding speed of Rage.

"If worthy blood runs through my veins..." Kenneth starts to echo, parsing the elder's words. Then, the half-empty glass of water in his hand is hurled full force at his tribe elder. "If that fucking deal with the vampires didn't go through... You fucking /did/ tell him to KILL ME, YOU SONUVABITCH!" And just like that, with uncanny timing that matches the ahroun shift for shift, the halfmoon too rips up into his Crinos form and charges right at his elder, claws and teeth out in a wild frenzy.

With a gutteral roar, the Fostern Shadow Lord boils up into his form of rage, claws slashing to meet his two boys with all of the murderous love in his cold, lifeless heart.

".... Fuck... me.. " Alicia says, watching as the three suddenly go at it, bulking herself up into the Glabro form, her body taking on a silver glowing aura for a brief moment before settling down. She reaches into her jacket, grasping the handles of a pair of baretta's, holding herself at the ready.

Signe looks delightfully pleased with the way things have turned out. The Get Jarl also blurs upward to near-man, backing off and letting the Shadow Lords handle their own business while she simply mans the door to keep anything from spilling into the streets.

Grey's mouth had twisted into a snarl from the moment Jarred spoke to Kenneth about 'teamwork', and the sudden explosion of rage kicks his own into restless wakefulness. Like Alicia and Signe, he takes Glabro form and gives the trio plenty of room.

[look Jarred (Song-of-Fury/Storm-Singer, crinos)]
Towering at just over 9 feet tall, Storm-Singer radiates a barely restrained fury. His fur is purest black, shaggy and bristling, rippling over a very powerful 850 pound frame. His eyes burn with dark, intense heat and his large clawed hands seem to clench and unclench as he gazes balefully around him.

[look Lucas (Thunder's-Forge, crinos)]
A beast of nightmare, straight out of the legends of the ancient man-eating monsters of legends. This werewolf stands easily nine feet high, perhaps more, and must weight several hundred pound at the very least. His shoulders are broad and his body heavily muscled. His coat is thick, dense, wild and rugged, broken by a thin scar running horizontally at the bottom of his chest and a thick patch of netted scar tissue on his abdomen that looks like the wounds were particularly deep. The color of his fur is a flawless raven black from black nose to black pawpads, highlighted in blue under light. The shade is nothing compared to the eyes that sit at the top of his muzzle. Vivid, piercing, of an intense blue that only serves to highlight the terrible intelligence of the monster and the pure anger that comes from them.

[look Kenneth (Dagger's-Edge, crinos)]
     Swathed in liquid night, this wolven beast's powerful and terrifying warform rises far above to over a man and a half's worth of height, adorned with curving scythes of sharp ebon and pearl for claw and fang. His movement, reminiscent of the silent wings of the fallen Malakim, is graced with violent efficiency. Every movement is made with purpose. With every step, the obsidian fur shifts and shines with the lure of ethereal darkness, drawing eyes in with an almost magnetic aura. The creature's own golden eyes burn like manifested wells of vengeful wrath granted to him from the divine. The fur around them almost glows with a silver brushed mask, marking that he is the swift, deadly executioner of Gaia's will.

All at once tension erupts into claw and blood. The Shadow Lords fall in against each other, the two younger flay the elder's flesh, all motion and blur, confusion giving way to synchronization and turning back into fierce and bloodthirsty confusion, like a pack of mad dogs all ripping for blood, though there are only two. Their claws slash at the Elder's flesh, but his black fur seems to leap out equally to meet it, entangling claws in darkness and shadow, shielding him with mother moon's gift. Still many strikes land home and great gashes at his stomach and chest spill open to empty blood and flesh onto the concrete floor. Song-of-Fury only attemps one massive strike in return, saving himself for the fight to come, catching the Philodox right about the face and scraping long jagged wounds from his neck to his muzzle.

Dagger's-Edge's head snacks back with violent spray of blood. The pain only serves to enrage the halfmoon even more, hazing the outskirts of his burning yellow gaze with red. Quicker than the eye can normally follow, the halfmoon sends his claws down towards the lower torso of Song-of-Fury, seeking soft gut and whatever else he can slice up into bits.

Song-of-Fury turns his attention and his full fury now upon Thunder's-Forge, his claws and fangs seeking purchase wherever they might. The shadow's still curl about his hulking frame, deflecting blows and playing optical tricks on the attackers.

Thunder's-Forge throws himself into the fray without any concern for himself, regardless of his injuries from earlier in the day, his mind single-handedly focused on the death of Storm-of-Fury unless he goes down first. Taking the brief moment the Fostern is distracted in attacking Dagger's Edge and before the Galliard attacks him, the Ahroun focuses and concentrates on a single target, spreads his jaws wide and aims them right for the Elder's throat where the blood runs close to the skin and the great windpipe waits to be cracked.

Not quite quick enough Thunder's-Forge brutally single-minded attack comes careening in only to be buffeted away by a quick slash from the Fostern as he turns his attention from one of his assailant's to the other. It scrapes against the Ahroun's tough fibrous flesh, peeling off fur and skin, and another massive blow follows fast behind, catching him in the upper stomach, reopening old wounds and spilling out flesh, causing one of his floating ribs to jut out of his stomach like an obscene tusk. The third blow is just turned aside as Dagger's-Edge comes in beneath it, throwing mad claw after mad claw into the Fostern's flickering dark stomach, it sails over Thunder's-Forge's head as the Ahroun comes screaming in to finally try and land his teeth around his opponent's throat; but the older Garou, with a quick snap down of his head, offers the top of his muzzle instead of his throat, around which the Thunder's-Forge locks his fierce jaws.

Thunder's-Forge clamps down on the muzzle caught between his teeth, summons his resolve, and jerks his head up to bring the Fostern's chin up and expose his throat. His claws are quick and merciless, aiming to tear through flesh and muscle and rend the throat of the Elder to pieces even as his own stomach bleeds freely.

Song-of-Fury would roar if he could open his muzzle. So he does the next best thing. His massive claws come together in a deafening clap of thunder that shakes Shadow's End and shatters every piece of glass within its blast radius.

Dagger's-Edge is all but determined to take his elder down, with or without surviving. Caution long thrown away, the maddened halfmoon throws everything he has into sinking his claws into his elder's underside and ripping out.

Wincing at the shock wave, Alicia ducks herself down a bit, gritting as she loses the world of sound about her. As glass showers about, she jerks one beretta free, holding it out at the ready while her other hand slips into her jacket. A flashlight is produced and she holds the pair together, turning a light on, backing up a bit.

Signe's reaction is less a wince and more a snarl. The Get begins to pace a little, as if she were actually considering entering the fray now.

Best laid plans are scattered by a sudden thunderous snap that pounds out between Song-of-Fury's giant paws. It courses through the ears and the body like a electricity, scattering thoughts, turning the world suddenly upside down. Through sheer determination Thunder's-Forge holds his deathgrip, though he can't orient himself enough to land his attacks, his body hangs like a ragdoll's. Dagger's-Edge's paws slip out from underneath him, his equilibrium destroyed, he's only able to steady himself by dropping to three legs, swinging wildly with his free hand, hitting nothing. The distortion only lasts a second and then everything reasserts itself in proper proportions, the smell of blood and the flash of claws is as real as ever.

From afar, to the room, Jihgfed notes that the gift would've affected the bystanders too, though probably not as significantly (being seasoned vets and all).

Grey grimaces, teeth bared. A moment later, the Glass Walker gives his head a shake to clear it and, taking note of the current status of the three brawling Shadow Lords, shakes his head again. Unconsciously, his hands open and close, fingers crooked into claw-shapes.

As soon as the world goes right again, Thunder's Forge resumes his attack with renewed vigor. Still driving his fangs deep into the face of the Galliard, once more trying to forcefully tear the older Lord's throat out with his clawed hand and end this fight.

The Elder brings both claws up and begins tearing at the exposed throat of his attacker, whose jaws are still locked about his muzzle, providing a rather simple target. His movements are surgical quick enough to almost certainly be fueled by mystical rage.

Down on his can goes Dagger's-Edge, blown down by the sonic boom of Song-of-Fury's gift. Ears pinned back as his ears ring, only his Rage calls louder for him to continue seeking blood. The halfmoon bristles like a black bottlebrush as he gets his bearings right side up. Shedding his bipedal stance like a fall of a curtain, he drops into the Hispo and lunges for the exposed leg of his target. Strong jaws open, eager to crunch down through flesh and bone.

Thick sharp claws come crashing through Thunders-Forge's throat, tearing it to tatters, so that each breath draws in long gurgling gasps of fluid, soaking his lungs like a sponge. His own claws come out to do the same to Song-of-Fury's but they don't penetrate far past the Galliard's thick fur and hide, slicing along but not through the fibrous muscle of his opponent's neck, as the Ahroun's strength begins to fail. Dagger's-Edge drops down into Hispo, he seems to find his paws again, to have found stability even against the slippery blood-slick concrete, and with a debilitating, massive chomp his teeth come down around and through Song-of-Fury's knee, causing the Fostern's whole frame to wobble.

The Ahroun's blue eyes momentarily go lifeless until they erupt like a plugged volcano into pure, unrefined and uncontrolled Rage. Thunder's Forge comes back to life in a fury unlike any he's ever been in and the Fostern's facial bones grind under the force of the frenzied Lord's fangs being driven in like a steel trap. He then begins to shake his head back and forth with enough force to either tear off half the elder's face or snap his neck.

The eyes of the Child of Gaia widen at the sight as she continues to bob back and forth, shouting over the frenzy. "He's lost it!" The flashlight bounces back and forth, dancing the light about the three bodies as she continues to hold her gun at the ready.

Grey's good eye takes on a violent gleam as he watches. "Good for him," he growls, in answer.

Dagger's-Edge is not really paying attention to what's happening above him. Only, that with the sickening satisfying crunch of bone against his teeth, the halfmoon's bloodlust shoots up again. The rays from the flashlight bounces off his retinas, lighting them with an unholy glow for fleeting bits of seconds. Unlatching from the leg in his jaws, the hispo halfmoon surges up with a muzzle full of fangs, seeking out to do pretty much what was done to him, those torturous months ago.

The Elder almost gives an non-visible sigh, and begins working again, methodically tearing at the Ahroun's throat as quickly as he is able.

With relish the Philodox exacts his revenge, easily sinking jaws thick with teeth into the Fostern's groin, ripping and tearing, covering his muzzle with blood; but the struggle is fiercer and more deathly above. Thunder's-Forge tears at Song-of-Fury's, snapping his head back and forth, blurring his vision and exacerbating the previous damage he'd done to the Galliard's neck, while Song-of-Fury sets about re-inflicting the damage he'd done before, which the Ahroun's fury and rage had patchworked back together, but this time the going seems harder, the muscle is more hastily and confusedly knit. Despite that though there's a whistling sound at every heaving breath the Ahroun draws, and the blood runs from his ears to his stomach and drips off his fur. Again Song-of-Fury's leg begins to falter, his control seems to falter at the vicious back and forth movement of his head.

Thunder's-Forge is relentless as he jumps back and forth across the fine line between life and death, long since having lost reason or any other thought than kill or be killed. With the last explosion of his fury, the Ahroun holds tight and gives his head a truely savage jerk up and to one side, putting enough power behind it to try and remove the Fostern's head utterly.

Song-of-Fury, too, succumbs to the darkness as his black eyes roll back into his skull. He goes limp for a moment, then inhales sharply. All pretenses of humanity there are forsaken. A moment of madness, instead. His claws fly, all of his anger gushing out of his ruined muzzle in a roar.

Dagger's-Edge tears off another valuable chunk from the fostern Lord, and being this close, looks up. Up there, a pulsing artery of life awaiting his jaws. Bunching down to wait for the most opportune moment when it shows, the halfmoon launches himself upwards like a coiled spring, teeth bared for the galliard's throat as the fostern's roar is loosed.

Song-of-Fury's blows are less precise now but they make up for that in mad ferocity. They slash and snap against the Ahroun but Thunder's-Forge is his greater in anger and with the determination of the damned he whips the Elder's head around like it were made of rags and nothing more. Faster, faster, so quick the motion is a blur, so quick he can no longer think, so quick his muscles have to take over the thought for him; but all the while the Fostern's claws keep flaying at him, and the Ahroun's breath had stopped coming seconds ago. Thunder's-Forge's teeth grind through bone, and then with an eerie suddenness, a sort of snap, his jaws seem to lose their strength, first the lower and then the upper slack, and the motion that had before whipped Song-of-Fury's head back and forth now sends him crumpling off to the side, his wounds too much, spilling blood out over the concrete, all red and grey, quiet now. Dagger's-Edge looks up and it's just then that he leaps, just as Thunder's-Forge falls, grabbing tight hold of Song-of-Fury's throat. His paws come up to Song-of-Fury's shoulders, pressing him back, and even as the Galliard is turning his attention back to him his knee gives a sick snap and he falls backwards, with Dagger's-Edge on top.

Darting forward, Alicia is quick on her feet as Thunder's-Roar's body drops to the side and the other two Shadow Lords go crashing down. The flashlight is dropped from her hands as it rolls to the side, light glinting in all directions before spinning to a stop. She aims for the fallen Ahroun, determination set in her eyes.

In the end, his Rage is all that keeps Thunder's Forge attacking, anything else having long since gone. But that, as infinite as it has always seemed, is finally exhausted and the Ahroun falls away and unceremoniously crashes to the floor that's soaked in tissue and blood. The reversion to his birth form is slow, but once it's complete, the once lost cub goes still and does not get up.

Dagger's-Edge topples as the entire pile of black fur slicked with blood crashes to concrete. Jaws still locked onto the galliard's throat, a massive growl thunders from the halfmoon's own vocal chords. Ceremony aside, he jerks his head violently in a finishing move to sever the jugular.

The Elder's eyes find Alicia and he stares as the smaller garou worries at his throat. The eyes hold something strange indeed. Resignation... something that has never before been seen in his face by any other garou. That, and a message that no one else can see or hear. Even as he makes a last effort to fend off the attack, he lacks the strength to make it effective. And so he watches his old friend, his enemy, perhaps both... or neither. In any case, it's the last thing he sees. The last thing he says.

Gritting her teeth, Alicia jerks her head up quickly at the sound of the voice passing through her mind. Her breath comes out quick, her hands sticky with Lucas's blood as she watches him revert to his breed form. Rage bubbles up from within as the typical patient as she rises up to her feet, making her towards the fallen body of Jarred, pain and sorrow leaking from her dark eyes as she whips her out out, blasting away into Jarred's dead skull. "How is that for fucking art!" BLAM! "That is for Tom, you sick fuck!" BLAM! "That is for Lucas!" BLAM BLAM! "He didn't deserve to die, you fucking did, you fucking shit! Take your art and fuck yourself in hell sideways you fucker!" She unloads the entire clip, the muzzle jerking slightly with each pull of the trigger, her eyes alight with the flare of the gun.

Grey's nostrils flare at the mingled stink of blood and gunpowder. Rage still burning like a well-banked, controlled fire, he watches the end of the battle and the fury of the Child of Gaia with grim intensity, waiting for sanity to return. Or the semblence thereof.

Click. Click. Click. Alicia continues to squeeze, even after the last bullet has left its chamber, teas leaking down her face as she falls to her knees, soaking her jeans in the thick goop of blood. She drops the gun in a clatter, clutching her hands to her chest.

Dagger's-Edge jumps away just a second after the first shot goes off, paws sliding in the slick blood. The halfmoon is still hyped up, but just teetering on the edges. A feral snarl is directed at the Child fostern, but he makes no attack yet as the bullets pierce the dead Shadow Lord elder.

Signe takes a tentative step Forward. Like Grey, her expression is both grim and intense. She moves past the Gaian elder, uncertain what to say, and instead continues toward what's left of the Shadow Lord elder. Crouching, she examines the body for a moment before turning her attention on the only remaining Shadow Lord. Her eyes seek out his in an attempt to kow him--calm him with quiet dominance.

Grey's jaw tightens. He steps forward carefully, smoothly, staying out of Kenneth's personal space as he approaches Alicia. He stops near her and lays a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. "It's done," he says in a quiet, hollow voice.

Staring blankly through hollowed, sad eyes, Alicia blinks a few times, then slowly rises to her feet, her body shaking. Reaching out, she takes Thomas's hand, gripping it in hers as she turns and leans into him for a hug, sniffing. ".. It was just a fucking game for him.. just a game of chess.. art.. he called it art."

Grey allows the Gaian's embrace, though there's a definite tight aloofness in his manner. He looks like he's about to say something, but then glances over at Kenneth and seems to think better of it. His only response to Alicia, then, is a curt, "The boy died well."

Dagger's-Edge doesn't manage to calm nearly as quickly as he should. As both Signe and Grey approach, the halfmoon backs up. But, with the object of his killing urge dead and unmoving, the adrenaline rush ebbing, Edge makes no move to attack. He stares up at Signe, meeting her eyes, and only then getting instinctively cowed back into a submissive state.

Swallowing tightly, Alicia nods her head, firmly, then glances over to the Half Moon. "Kenneth, shift into your Glabro and take a deep breath. Just calm down.. " She says, letting go of Thomas, her voice shakey as she tries to get a grip. ".. Your pack mate is dead, but so is the Elder. I.. I really don't have words for the moment, but.. I can offer you a roof tonight if you need somewhere to duck your head and chill out, or cry.. or .. whatever.. fuck.." She says, hands trembling as she squeezes them together to try and stop the shaking.

Grey folds his arms across his chest, a calculating gaze sweeping over the scene, at the two human-seeming corpses, at all the blood and wreckage. His eye ends up on the alpha of Havoc. "We should get started on disposal."

Signe meets the halfmoon's stare evenly, approaching slowly. "Do like Alicia says, Edge," she instructs in a quiet but insisting tone. Grey's words draw her attention, but for the moment she does not yet look away from Kenneth. She gives the Walker a simple nod.

Dagger's-Edge's lips remain peeled back, but they are lowering. No longer does the Rage flow as eagerly through the halfmoon's veins, and as that happens the pain of his wounds dully thuds against the back of his brain. It seems as if at first he doesn't understand the words that are coming out of the others' mouths. But, sure enough, the black slicked fur starts to melt away, replacing itself with clothing soaking in his blood and the blood of his tribemates. All his clothing returns, sans footwear and wallet.

Watching Kenneth, Alicia slowly makes her way over towards him, stepping around the bodies carefully, her eyes pained. ".. You fought good, Kenneth.. like a real warrior of Fenris. You and Lucas both. I'm going to weave an amazing song for your brother." Her hand reaches out for him, silver light dancing off her movements from the strength of her armor, touching his side where she gives him a warm, healing sensation.

Grey, having Signe's acknowledgement, and by his body language very much a subordinant of the two female Garou, simply watches, hands buried back in his pockets.

Signe, when Kenneth is in his birthform, turns toward Grey. With a solemn sigh, the Get looks around the wrecked warehouse, painted in blood. "You know, I wouldn't put it past the sneaky bastard to have done this on purpose, just so /we'd/ have to play janitor."

Kenneth snaps his head to one side as Alicia comes up and extends her hand out, scrambling back before she manages to touch him. "Don't touch me," he snarls out in verbal lash, a mixture of confusion, pain, and anger emitting off the Glabro-sized youth. Bare feet swiping arcs through the pooled blood on the floor, he struggles up to his feet a few lengths away from the Child.

Grey snorts. "He was twisted, but not /that/ twisted." He glances down at the dead Galliard, grimaces, and then turns back to Signe. "How do--" He breaks off, looking toward Kenneth, then Alicia. "Don't push him," he advises the Gaian.

"Kenneth..." Alicia trails off, then withdraws her hand as she tucks it back, taking a few steps away from him, shaking her head. "Fuck.." Her eyes dart around the mess, sighing out quietly, then says. "I'll stay and clean up here. I'll call Cutter and Resonance.. let them know what happened." She says, starting to fish out her cell phone.

Kenneth swallows down another snarl - maybe not the best of ideas with all the blood and ichor in his mouth. Not meeting the eyes of any of the trio, and especially not Signe's, he looks over at the maimed and gored corpses of his tribemates. A blankness washes over his features, slipping into an grey neutral of a gaze as he hears the conversation passing around, but doesn't really register.

"I'll assist," Grey says to Alicia, blandly, as if this were nothing more than business as usual.

Alicia presses a few buttons on the phone and starts to mumble into it as she walks a bit away from everyone, half way closing her eyes.

Currently, Signe and Grey are off in different parts of the apartment, cleaning up the mess, possibly half assed without trying too hard, while Alicia is pacing back and forth, calling one phone number after the other, keeping an eye on Kenneth who is now in the Glabro form.

With a creak, the lift starts. Moments later the doors open, and Cutter steps out, Rina two paces behind.

Kenneth since dropped down to a squat, not far from the corner of the mini workout gym at one side of the loft. His black eyes are made more so in the darkness, silence shrouding him in heavy atmosphere. Deep gouges from his neck up to the lower half of his face ooze blood, not healing quickly but not life-threatening.

Rina's quiet and expressionless, although her eyes flicker over the mess, taking things in.

Alicia glances over to Cutter and makes her way over to them, shaking her head. ".. I can't even begin to explain what happened here.. we came to take Lucas to the bawn as instructed to keep a watch over him, and soon, the three of 'em were at each other's throats and then.. they went at it."

Cutter sighs softly and moves past her, as if not hearing her. "Hey," he says, "Kenneth. You okay? Need the Touch?"

Rina watches as the Theurge approaches Kenneth. She wraps both arms around herself, and stays near the door.

Kenneth looks up when he's approached, shoulders tensing underneath the ripped up jacket. Not exactly responsive, but rather acting as a cornered animal, the halfmoon bares his slightly elongated teeth at the theurge as his reply. "Don't. Touch. Me," he utters, half-growl, half-speech.

"Yeah.. Hi to you too." Alicia murmurs with a hard breath as her haunted eyes glance back about the scene, then over towards the elevator. She shoves her hands into her pockets and makes her way for the door. "Good night guys."

Cutter nods and crouches down a few paces from his last tribemate. "Okay," he says nonchalantly. "What do you need? Anything?"

Kenneth doesn't reply to the next question, but simply keeps his eyes on Cutter for a bit. Rina isn't quite as 'cheerily' acknowledged, though the sense that the halfmoon feels her presence is there. Then, as the others continue their clean up, his gaze shifts to where the bodies still lie, torn up and mangled. A flicker of something other than blank and anger passes over the glabro's face, but disappears just as quickly.

Cutter sighs again and stands up. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "You asked me for help and I didn't hear it." He surveys the wreckage and purses his lips. "Okay. Now the picking up and the moving on."
"How clean does this need to be?" Rina asks, matter-of-fact.

Cutter shakes his head dismissively. "Need? There aren't going to be any cops up here. Nobody who's going to ask inconvenient questions. Hell, I'm half tempted to burn the damn place down and pretend it never existed."

Kenneth's teeth clench at the quiet words, but he doesn't comment. The youth doesn't move from his spot either, but eventually has to prop himself into a three-prong squat rather than just on two bare and blood-slickened feet. The mess is rather unbelievable. And police /might/ be on their way, but if they are, they are taking their sweet time.

Rina lets out a breath, running a hand back through her hair. "Good," she murmurs.

Cutter turns back to look at Kenneth again. "Do you need a ride? You can crash at my place if you need, or I can take you out to the caern. Whatever."

Kenneth swallows down again. The metallic taste of blood sliding down his throat, it first plugs up his chance to answer, before he closes his eyes for a short bit. When they open again, he just shakes his head. "I'm not going anywhere," he replies quietly, eyes casting down their gaze towards the black, cold floor beneath.

The dark-haired woman swallows, and looks over to Kenneth. "You sure you wanna stay here?" she asks, softly.

"I think it's a bad idea, man," says the Lord elder.

Kenneth looks up from Rina to Cutter. All of a sudden, his Rage finds a temporary fuel source and he barks out at the two, "Then where should I be?! Huh?"

Rina takes a careful, slow breath, and lets it out. "You want I should go?" she asks Cutter, softly. "I can get a cab."

Cutter glances back at her. "Might be safer. Hate to see you get hurt when the fight's over."

Kenneth struggles up to his feet once more, inner anguish mixing with the throbbing pain of his wounds. Not particularly in his right mind, but in enough of one to make a slow shift down to his birthform, the halfmoon shrinks down even more. The deep furrows of crinos claws become more apparent when he's shrunken down. Hand coming up to touch a dab of his blood onto his fingers, Kenneth looks at it shortly before he turns and starts towards the elevator. "If I can't stay here, then I'll just... go somewhere else."

Rina shakes her head quickly, not far from the lift. "Don't... please? You need to talk to someone..."

Cutter says "I didn't say you can't stay here. I just think it's a bad idea. I think you should be somewhere... quiet. Safe, for whatever that word means. I think you should be around, and if you don't feel like talking now I think it'd be good to have somebody around later."

"Talk?" Kenneth slows, stopping in front of the elevator. He turns, sending an angered glare at both kin and new tribe elder. "What's there to talk about? They're fuckin' Dead." Bitterness aided with poorly disguised turmoil pour into his tone, also suggesting that there's much more to it than just the deaths of his tribemates.

Rina says, very quietly, "I'm just gonna go now, okay? Could I...?" She gestures to Kenneth, cautiously, and steps toward the elevator.

Cutter waves her toward the lift. "What I'd like you to do, here, Kenneth, is to take some time and do whatever the hell you want. You want to stay here? That's great. You want to go to the bawn? That's great. On Monday, I'd like to talk to you about what the hell happened here. It doesn't look like I have the option to be out of the loop any more, and I'll have an assload of work to do."

Kenneth isn't particularly blocking the way to the elevator, but the angry aura surrounding him might act as a deterrent. The youth doesn't move to intercept, but Rina gets a short look that isn't pleasant at all. Cutter's words garner his attentions, though, and Kenneth hisses out sharply. Turning again, he stalks away from the elevator a few paces. "I don't fuckin' know, alright?" Voice tight, whether with restraint or with anger, he just stops and stares at the mess around the loft. Given the cleanup going on, he shakes his head again at the sight. Finally, a short "whatever" is uttered, and the halfmoon heads for the stairs. Pausing at the base of it, he looks over in the general direction of the theurge. "Monday."

Cutter dips his head. "I'd appreciate it if you showered before then," he says, and he turns to walk away from the stairs, slipping his hands into his pockets as he starts to patrol the room.

Rina's eyes follow Kenneth, warily. The worry is clear, but she stays exactly where she is.

Kenneth gives the theurge a withering look, but not a strong one. The fact that he's just too stormtossed to care shows, and with little else coming from him, the halfmoon ascends. The sound of his barefooted steps grows quiet, followed with the opening and closing of a door further down the hall.

Cutter reaches up to take his hat, slowly, as if he were fighting particularly fierce gravity, and looks around the room. "I fucking hate that guy. I'm so glad he's dead."

Rina chews on her lower lip. "I-- who was-- no. No, it's all good. I'm just-- I'm just gonna go."

Cutter doesn't turn back. "I wouldn't blame you. Take my car."

"You sure?" Her voice is a little unsteady.

Cutter shrugs, hat dangling in one hand at his side. "I'll be fine. Do what you need to do."

"Call me if you need a ride, okay?" She steps toward him, holding out a hand for keys.

No sound comes from the upstairs room in the loft. Simply put, it's deathly quiet in Kenneth's room.

Cutter doesn't see her, doesn't notice her reaching. "Okay. I'll come by your place and pick it up. Maybe tomorrow, noonish." He just stands there, silently surveying the room.

A faint smile comes, fond almost. "Why don't you come back with me?"

It takes a minute before he turns back to look at her, brow furrowed, and he looks at her as if he's just noticed she's still in the room and is wondering how she got there. "Um. Because your apartment is colder than fuck." He looks at her, an angel framed in blood and shrapnel.

Rina swallows. "I didn't mean there."

Cutter puts his hat back on. "In that case, let's go anywhere but here." He steps forward, offering her his hand as he moves carefully through the room.

Rina laces fingers with Cutter's and makes her way back to the lift, accompanying him out.