2/18/2006

03:42 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (63% full).
It is currently 15:34 Pacific Time on Sat Feb 18 2006.
Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 42 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 14 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.31 and falling, and the relative humidity is 17 percent. The dewpoint is 0 degrees Fahrenheit (-17 degrees Celsius.)

SCCU: The Quad(#3990RJ$)
Like most colleges, St. Claire City University has an area known only as 'the Quad'. This is it. Sidewalks criss-cross the perfectly rectangular grassy area in a web to connect one dull concrete and darkened glass block-shaped building to another. Still, the grass is green most of the year, and well-trimmed brightly-shaded flowers and manicured shrubs manage to soften the harsh grey of the architecture. Small groves of trees dot the landscape of the lawn randomly to provide shade and to break up the monotony.
The dome of the student union building can be seen off in the distances behind several buildings and some trees. A sign post points out that the suitcase-like buildings you spy to the north are dormitories. A 'sign' in front of Curtiss advertises on-campus activities.
Contents:
Dillen
Kevin
Obvious exits:
Student Union  Dormitory  Campustown  

The start of the weekend finds few people on campus. Most are either holed up indoors from the cold, or out somewhere having their deserved break. Kenneth in turn, wanders the campus with coat collar turned up and general demeanor still alone, neutral and distant. As he crosses by a glass-encased bulletin board for announcements, he pauses to read what has been posted.

Kevin walks along a pace or two behind his packmate, clutching a piece of paper that purports to be a diagrammatic map of the campus. "This place is a rabbit warren," he declares. "I don't know how Aimee and Freya find their way around."

Kenneth looks behind him, lips thinning. "Same way you find your way around out There," he replies. "By gettin' lost. A lot." The philodox turns back to the board, but has lost interest in any of the postings. "It's not that confusing."

"It's like the damn maze at Hampton Court," protests Kevin. "You start out in any direction and always end up back here in this rotten courtyard."

Dillen comes sauntering into the courtyard. "S'up?" His hands are shoved into his pockets, confidence pouring from him. "How's things?" As he looks between the two others. His motorcycle can be seen packed off behind him.

"That's the /point/," Kenneth argues back mildly before spotting Dillen from afar. "Kevin's lost," he replies to the Requiem alpha, eyeing the galliard from the corner of his eye. "Though I can't see why. All you gotta do is find the MCSE building, if that's where your kin goes all the time for classes."

"Dillen, mah man," Kevin greets the alpha. "I am not lost. I'm just... temporarily geographically disadvantaged. Yeah, that's what I am. I'll figure out where everything is soon enough. And you know, Kenneth, I'm not just hanging out here to meet Aimee any more than you are."

Dillen chuckles and shakes his head, "I am just so glad that Freya isn't around her for a while. This place and a baby just don't match. Gotta get some kin stuff going soon for the kid."

Kevin looks sympathetic, though slightly mechanically so. "What, you mean, like, babysitting and stuff?"

Dillen gives his nose a bit of a scratch. "Yeah. So Freya can finish up her degree."

"Oh, yeah... I was forgetting, she only did like a year, didn't she?" Kevin looks round the quad. "So," he says to the other two, having noted that they're by themselves, "any potential hot spots round campus any of us saw?"

"Frat row. Probably the worst on campus in my opinion. Easy to corrupt drunk stupid men." Dillen says to the two, scanning around with his eyes.

Kenneth, having remained silent this whole time, breathes out half of a laugh. "Hot spots for what? For stupidity? Drunk guys lookin' to score? We don't need to worry about that." The philodox looks towards a pair of college girls making their way towards the library. "Did they ever clean up that pool? They better have."

"Think so," Kevin says. "It was all before Christmas wasn't it? I guess that's one of the things we'll need to look out for... any recurrence of that kind of stuff." He looks at the same couple Kenneth is tracking, then away again.

"Yeah. They cleaned it up. The whole damn mess just kinda stopped." Dillen shrugs, hands shoved back into his pockets. The college girls get a glance as well, "And there are advantages to doing the college campus.

Kenneth gives Dillen a sharp look, but doesn't comment. "How far's the Walker safehouse from here?" he asks after another bit. "This ain't a place that's exactly 'safe' for us either."

Kevin jerks a thumb. "Bout a quarter, half a mile, maybe. Down to the Interstate, under it, turn left... and we're there."

Dillen shakes his head, "I'm still looking into it. Nikolai got me a bunch of the beer, have it stashed until I can get someone to sniff it for taint." Dillen shrugs. "I just found it where Nikolai left it before he disappeared." Dillen looks thoughtful for a bit, "Hey. Let me know if either of you decide to go off and live your life somewhere else, will ya?"

Kenneth sniffs the air once. "Why?" he asks in return, though it's not exactly defensive.

Kevin frowns at Dillen. "I'll tell you what I told Brom when he asked me to go with him," the ragabash responds. "My home is here now, my friends are here, my partner is here... and my duty is here."

"Because, I'd like to know if I am gonna lose any more of my pack." Dillen folds his arms across his chest and nods to Kevin. "As it should be."

"You'll know if I decide to do that," Kenneth says afterwards, shifting his weight to another foot. "But I am /not/ gonna live in Brownstone if it means Freya is going to be there. It's too dangerous. And that's Get territory anyway."

"Not to mention the baby," Kevin points out. "Babies drive enough normal males so crazy they snap and hurt the poor little bastards, never mind... us."

Dillen blows out a long breath. "Then where, Kenneth?" Dillen takes a long look at the Lord, "You got a better idea? I'd say we could use the basement... Hell, I'm just looking for somewhere to stay on occasion. We all have our own homes."

Kenneth looks over to Kevin. "The safehouse the Walkers had, that's got a common side yeah? A few miles isn't far, compared to goin' from woods to city. I'll crash there some times. Otherwise, I got my own places."

"You're welcome in there any time, Kenneth," Kevin confirms. "So are you too Dillen, come to that. Any of our people are. All we ask is, you stay long term, you help cover groceries and stuff. Emma used to practically live there last year,"

"That works as well. THe common area for the Get is open as well." Dillen shrugs. "So we have places and in small moons, we can use my apartment?" He looks around for agreement.

"Groceries? Fine, I can toss an apple in or something. Xia would be covering the costs." Kenneth doesn't seem all that pleased to mention his reliance upon the kin, but he then looks straight back on to Dillen. "If Freya is there," Kenneth states again, "I will not be." The Shadow Lord is firm on this.

"Easy, guys, easy," Kevin urges the other two. "It's a big city, and we don't have to go round like we're joined at the waist. Long as we can find each other reasonably quickly in emergencies, and... you-know-who sees to that, doesn't he?

"Whatever, man." Dillen shakes his head at Kenneth, "Yeah. That is about it." He nods to Kevin. "So. Either of you need to try and kick my ass for Alpha? Just makin' sure." He shrugs as if it means nothing.

"Are you challenging us?" Kenneth retorts baldly. "Lookin' for a fight?"

"Do I /look/ like the kind of guy who needs to do that?" Kevin retorts, amused. "Hell no. Bottom of the pile, me, and happy."

Dillen gives a thumb of his nose and does a few boxing moves. "I'm always up for a fight. You know that. I';m just making sure you two know who the alpha is."

Kenneth straightens up, feeling that rise in him. "Yeah," he snorts with rancor. "The alpha's the guy who constantly lords himself around like he's the best shit since chocolate cake filled with X-Lax."

Kevin suddenly explodes into laughter at that turn of phrase. "If you two big men are gonna duke it out," he suggests, "at least don't do it here. Come back to my place and do it in the cellar where we have facilities... and no spectators."

"Oh man. You know, Kenneth, maybe if you didn't run your mouth so much people might like you better." Dillen jabs at the Lord, almost good natured.

"Just Shut up," Kenneth snaps out harshly, causing a few heads to turn towards the pack. "I'm sick of hearin'..." he hisses, but doesn't finish his statement as a student passes by them, though not exactly off the concrete path, certainly not going at a leisurely pace meant for the weekend crowd.

Kevin whistles a few notes in a forced mock-casual way. He gives the student a smile, as though to say 'Nothing odd happening here'. It makes him turn up the speed a notch and almost drop his document case as he scurries away.

Dillen just shrugs and heads off towards the Walker house. "You said you had facilities, Kevin?" Yeah, the Galliard is lookin for a fight.

Kevin falls in behind Dillen. "Sure we do," he repeats. "Underground. Make as much noise, nobody'll hear or care. Only one thing..." he stipulates with one of those smiles that takes up his whole mouth but doesn't affect the rest of his face. "I get to watch."

Kenneth is all focused on the galliard, to the point that his lips have slipped back in a tight, unfriendly, teethtip baring smile. He says nothing but the look in his black eyes is not particularly conscious of possible reprecussions for this fight. He's at the back, sure, but the philodox is following.

Dillen just keeps walking, head held high and Kenneth behind him.

Safehouse: Basement
The basement runs about half the width of the house above, with a concrete block wall separating the two. Most of the the area is open and unfinished and sports the usual basement decor of cobwebs, exposed rafters, and cockroaches scuttling along the walls. The furnace and hot water heater stand in glory in the northeast corner along with the fuse box; the northwest corner has been set up as an open workshop with a pair of fluorescent lights bolted to the ceiling. In the southwest corner stands a vault: more concrete blocks enclose a room perhaps ten by ten and a sturdy steel door denies passage either into or out of the place.
Steps lead up from the southeast corner.
                                 +views here                                  
Contents:
Dillen
Kevin
Gifts
Obvious exits:
Upstairs

Kevin leads the rest of the pack into the city and to his house. The walk is mostly silent and in single file, uncomfortably tense. Once there Kevin ushers the pack down to the basement, cold concrete blocks and a bare light greeting them there. "Here you go, guys. All yours. Don't kill each other, we can't afford to lose more."

Down in the basement, Kenneth takes off his coat and outer shirt, unbuttoning down and this time not bothering to fold them up as he usually does. He just tosses it into a corner, turns to the galliard and stares with fixed animosity.

Dillen tosses off his jacket and pulls his shirt off. "So what you got?"

Kevin sits on the steps. "Ding, ding, round one," he proclaims.

Kenneth, true to his word (or lack thereof), doesn't say a thing as he launches himself forward. The Shadow Lord utters just a harsh and gutteral snarl, throwing out the first punch right for the galliard's face. It's quicker than usual, blurred with speed of harnessed Rage.

Dillen does his quickest dodge that he can, bringing a knee up to connect right with Kenneth's midesction.

Too long has Kenneth been looking for a fight. Here he finds it. But his opponent Dillen is a difficult one. Dillen's speed is quicker than the Shadow Lord's, though the philodox's punch grazes by the Get's ear. Still, the knee brought up is blocked with a firm hand and holds onto it. A hand that enlarges and grows claws, as Kenneth glares up from looking down at the appendage, bursts up towards the Crinos form and throws an uppercut for the other's jawline.

Dillen blows through the forms and into Crinos as well. The only difference is that with the slight step to the side to avoid the uppercut, Dillen sends out a hard punch directly for the Lord's muzzle.

Kevin keeps sitting on the stairs, watching his two packmates throw themselves at each other in angry challenge. It's impossible to tell who, if anyone, he is rooting for.

The Shadow Lord's black fist gets contact, but the Get's skull must be pretty hard because it does nothing to him. Likewise as Bloods-Bane's hard thrown punch smacks into the philodox's muzzle, there's not much real impact save for the fleshy sound of fists hitting each other. What words there are from before are lost in a mess of feral snarling, as what was fists from before turns towards claws. The philodox shoves himself against the galliard, not allowing the Get much room for slippery dodging, as his claws come out and slash for his torso. Any part he can get of the Get.

Bloods-Bane decides to use that hard head and slams it forward into Kenneth's. His own claws go to sink into the meat of Kenneth's shoulder, halting the movement of one arm is at all possible by twisting in the shoulder joint.

Kevin winces, but keeps watching as avidly as any sports fan at a close-run match.

Like twin lions fighting, the scene turns gruesome in mere seconds. When Dillen's head comes forth to try and knock the Shadow Lord one, it is targeted in place of torso, and the Shadow Lord's claws draw first blood. Heavy blood splashes across the floor from the Get as Edge's hand gouges deeply into his cheek and lips, claws even clicking against tooth and gum. In return, the movement and throwoff of the impact causes the Get's blow not to dig into shoulder, but into the philodox's side. The twist is so deep that the galliard can feel his claws scrape against the bone amidst flesh. Snarling out in pain, the halfmoon bares his toothy muzzle at this opponent.

Bloods-Bane snarls and growls out in pain as well. His claws stay in Kenneth's side as Dillen is obviously kicking in a gift. The claws in Kenneth's side twist about as Dillen shakes off the pain.

That moment's pause snaps off like a gunshot, as Edge grabs for galliard's arm that holds him, claws seeking to dig in as well. And like in muscle memory, his feet shift to move behind and trip the galliard, taking him down.

And just like that, Dillen is back in it as well. Dillen rips his hand, pulling out of Edge's side and hoping to take meat with it. The leg that tries to sweep Dillen off his feet is felt and he tries to lift his knee up and into Kenneth's gut. The hand pulling Kenneth off his balance and into Dillen's knee... He hopes.

Kevin sits forward on his grandstand seat, watching almost despite himself as the fight gets bloodier, nastier.

When the leg comes up to knee him, Edge is hit but that does little to stop him. The Shadow Lord's claws dig into the hand that pulls out, but the Get feels nothing of his tendons straining with foreign elements inserted into them. Like a train runaway on its tracks, the throw move, though aborted, is enough to topple both to the floor, the Shadow Lord on top, if but briefly. A large moves to grab the Get's muzzle and hold - the Shadow Lord's eyes ablaze with the Beast straining behind them.

Bloods-Bane reaches for the Lord's head, pushing it up to seize the closeness to wrap his jaws around Kenneth's neck, surging to push Kenneth over and onto the ground and claim the dominance.

Like those videos where police dogs attack, the Get's jaws blur up before the Shadow Lord has a chance to immobilize them. But instinct and reflex to protect his vulnerable neck cause an abort of any further attack from the Shadow Lord. Fangs contact neck and dig in to pierce flesh; hands come up and grip hard enough to draw blood from the gums of the Get. It is the philodox who is overturned, soon pinned to the ground and struggling still to unlatch the galliard's jaws from his throat. A foot comes up, seeking to kick against the Get, or push the smothering weight off.

Kevin rises to his feet, sensing the climax of the fight is approaching.

Bloods-Bane keeps his jaws there, clamping them. If the Lord kicks too hard, he will only succeed in ripping his own throat more. His hands move to the shoulders of the Lord to jab into the places Bane went for earlier. A growl comes from the Get, meaning only one thing... Submit.

There's no submission. Only what Bloods-Bane has seen before - that wild look of pure, unadulterated hatred that comes out so real and fast, Kevin barely has time to recognize it's the Thrall of the Wyrm. Edge's Beast breaks its chains and bypasses the locks, as a bloodcurdling roar explodes out of the philodox. Now he doesn't look to break the galliard's grip. He seeks to kill the galliard, dead, and then some. Even though his throat is taken and his form rather immobilized, the Shadow Lord rips away at everything he can level his remaining limbs at. It's dangerously so - Kevin can either watch his pack alpha get ripped and shredded, or do more...

Kevin has cause to bless the impulse that made him rise to his feet -- it saves him a whole two seconds as he springs into crinos and dives for the thralling Edge from above. Perhaps he's thinking of how many members Requiem has lost recently and how it cannot afford to lose another. Rage-fuelled himself, he leaps for the philodox with a rabbit punch.

Bloods-Bane feels it come beneath him. He keeps his jaws around the Lord's neck, tightening. Dillen does his best to use his body to keep Edge for doing any more damage. His limps just try and keep Edge from being able to hurt any more. If Dillen stays on top of the Philodox, at least the weight keeps Edge down.

The punch does little but infuriate an already frenzied Philodox, even though the ragabash can hear bones break beneath the skin. Split between opponents, Dillen being closer, blood and fur start to soak the ground and fill the air. By sheer proximity, the Walker ragabash's leg gets cut by an errant claw on its way to rip into the galliard. But it's through the tightening of jaws around the Shadow Lord's neck that causes his movements to slow. The air supply cut, muscles stop working, cramping up and finally flagging. A shudder passes through the halfmoon, his hands dug into the galliard's shoulder, shrinking down into unconsciousness and breedform. Ow.

Power-Up remains on top of Kenneth for a few moments after he's dropped unconscious, as though fearful that he might spring back to frenzy. "Hellfire," he gasps. "That was... what I thought it was?"

Bloods-Bane slowly lets off of the neck of the philodox. He slumps off and sets down beside the Lord. His head hangs down low, rage bouncing off him more from what he just experienced than anything. ~Yes.~ Is the only word that slips from his bloodied maw. The radiating rage just pours off the galliard, anger beyond any Kevin has felt from him yet.

~What do we do with him?~ asks the ragabash, as he finally lets go of the unconscious Shadow Lord. ~Should we put him to bed...? Can't leave him here?~

~Lock him in a room until he is checked for taint.~ Bloods-Bane growls out. ~I will take no chances. I will not have this pack tainted again.~ The Galliard rises to his feet and growls down at the Philodox. ~Need a healer.~ Of course, the words are mangled by the ripped jaw of the Galliard.

Power-Up drags Kenneth's unconscious body over to the bunker in the corner of the basement that once upon a time served as prison for the cub Cy, and lies him down on the camp bed inside, not without care, before locking the door with a worried look.

Nobody tell Xia. She'd tear Kenneth apart for having ruined more clothes. At least his coat and nice shirt aren't any worse for wear, but his pants are slowly soaking up that blood - at least until he's moved onto a bed.

Dillen finds himself sitting for a long while, trying to regain some composure. After several minutes he does and rises to his feet, now going about the safehouse to try and find some bandaging materials. Soon, he returns, bandage around his own face and unlocks the cage, stepping inside to begin to bandage up Kenneth.

The Shadow Lord isn't heavy at all for his body mass, but with the injuries that the Get has incurred, it seems to be even /more/ difficult. Bandages seem to get soaked by the bucketload before there is any actual progress. And this whole time, the philodox remains out like a light. No, he's no pretty sight now.

Dillen lifts his head up and quietly speaks, "Gaia. This kid has been through all kinds of hell. Give him a break, will ya? Let him win a few." His head goes back to Kenneth and his hands keep moving to try and fill the wounds. "Ken. You gotta wake up, man. You gotta shift. Please." Another bandage moved and replaced with a clean one.

Kenneth's breathing is shallow, likely in part because of the places he's been torn into. Once the bandage around his neck is tied, there seems to be some semblance of actual conscious life returning. In that, a few fingers twitch, eyelids flutter, and his breathing pauses before being let go with pain. Pain is what he wakes to. Pain and grogginess. It is countless minutes since the fight began, now. "Fuhhh-ck..." is Ken's first word.

Dillen looks over Kenneth. "Dude, you need to shift. Please." As Dillen holds a bandage in place, trying to help the Philodox breathe. "C'mon, buddy."

Kenneth cracks an eye open, black and white seen shifting rather deliriously around before it focuses on Dillen's face. Dillen's clawed up face. There are a few more attempts at words, but nothing happening after. The eye closes, and through slow, laborous process, the philodox's form crawls up in mass and muscle. The bed protests under the weight, springs creaking slightly. Of course, that all but ruins Dillen's bandaging job. It does, however, slowly begin to knit the Shadow Lord's nose back into where it ought to be. In a deeper voice now, Kenneth repeats, "Fuck."

Dillen begins to pick up bandages and move about the wounds again. "Good job, man." Dillen stays quiet for a long time, bandaging before he asks, "Kenneth... You aren't doing anything like Lucas... Are you?"

Kenneth reaches up to tear the bandage around his neck that constricts him. He doesn't answer the Get, nor look at him, and all his movements are slower than a turtle's.

Dillen rises up, wiping his hands off. "I need to know, Kenneth." Dillen says, looking down on him.

The twin rings that still adorn the ball chain around him, slip from his chest down to one side. Kenneth's hairier glabro mug scowls back. It's another moment or two before he grits his teeth and through clenched jaw replies, "Of course not."

Dillen nods his head and lets out a long breath. "I didn't think so. I trust you." The rings get a certain long look and then he turns away. "Do you know what happened?"

Kenneth makes his attempts to sit up. It's just trying to pull himself up that cause him to grimace with pain. "No," he says flatly, stiffly, but evidently with exhaustion.

Dillen holds his hand to his own face, moving to shift into Glabro against the wall. "You thralled." Dillen says simply enough, pull the bandage from his face. The other wounds covered under clothes.

Kenneth doesn't respond for a long time. He just sits where he is, staring at the wall. Then he breaks the silence again. "Where's Kevin?"

"He came over and popped you in the nose when you thralled. I had you around your neck." Dillen looks towards the door, "He went on to bed. I think it really rattled him." Dillen looks to the cell and takes a breath. "Do you think you are tainted? I mean, I don't want to lose another packmate to this shit."

"Are you accusing /me/ of being of the Wyrm?" Kenneth manages to growl out, twisting his throbbing neck so that he can look at the galliard. Every mention of thrall seems to ratchet his tension up again, slow as that progression might be.

"Could happen. To any of us. I'm just asking. Come on, man. You know what we have been through with this. I don't want to lose you too." Dillen stares at the wall, growling and rubbing at his face.

Kenneth devolves into a growl of the Mother Tongue. ~Just Asking? You say that /so/ easily!~ He shifts his weight, trying to get out of the bed. "I am /not/ tainted. I am /not/ Lucas!" he snaps out in English now, pushing himself to his feet. His nose looks to have healed at least.

"I know you aren't Lucas and stop with this defensive shit." Dillen growls at the Lord, "Stop with all the poor poor me crap. You are a lot more than you give yourself a chance for. You just keep getting knocked down so you think you need to be down. Cut it out."

"Because people like /you/ find it so easy to ask if I've gone to the Wyrm!" Kenneth barks out. "I'm not wallowing in selfpity shit here. I'm fuckin' tired of everyone thinking I'm down an' out. I'm /not/. And the next fucker who accuses me of consorting with vampires I swear to God I'll rip their tongue out or die trying!" He balls his meaty fists up, making indents in his skin with his own nails. "Fucking sept."

"Kenneth? Have i said anything that you are? Have I said a damned thing about you and the vampires? Have I taken up for you at every fucking chance I can get? I am not this sept. I am your pack alpha. I am your friend. I am someone who know what you can fucking do!" Dillen gets closer to the Lord. "Dammit. It's time for you to give some credit where it is due. Kevin and I both are on your side and you just keep trying to find reasons to push us off. Pack means more than someone to fight with. Pack means that we will go to bat for you. We DEFEND your ass!"

"Are you? Do you?!" Kenneth glares eye for eye. "Then you tell /me/, Why the Fuck do I still get looked down on out there? Where's the support when I'm gettin' my honor stomped on in front of the whole sept? Huh? Teach me, oh wise galliard. What in God's name am I doing wrong?"

"Step back and watch for a little while. If you jeep putting yourself out there you are a target. Step back, do things that get talked about. Show them what you truly are. There are others here with a lot more experience that just see you as a stubborn brat, full of rage. Show them what Kevin and I know about you and then go kick their ass! What the hell am I supposed to do, jump up between you and Jacinta, an elder, and say, "On no, you are wrong?" There are rules for that. Kenneth, dude. You don't have to conquer the place in one week... Give it some time. Grow. Learn. Fight your ass off and earn their fucking respect. You already have mine!" Dillen folds his arms across his chest and looks at the Philodox. "Show then what you can do... Not what they think you have done. Actions speak a hell of a lot better than words."

Kenneth snorts, tone thick with that very rage he is known for. "I'm a /halfmoon/. Apparently a fucked up one. The hell, just fighting obviously doesn't earn respect." Still, he looks off from the glare, stepping back and sitting onto the bed, another flinch from the pain sweeping like shadow and disappearing quickly. "I ain't going back there, Dillen."

"No. Just fighting doesn't do it." Dillen shakes his head and turns to look at the halfmoon. "Kenneth. We have to move on. If we don't forget the past then nobody else will. It's not like I am out there telling the tale every night. We have to replace those memories with others." He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, "I don't want to go bath there either, man, but it has taught me some lessons... You have to be sure about some things and I will have you checked for taint... Quietly, though."

"You don't get it," Kenneth growls, quieter but still angry. "I'm /not/ going back there." He looks up. "You do what you want. But the Wyrm is here. And here is where I'm going to fight. Fuck 'em. Fuck 'em all."

"You aren't going back to the sept? The caern?" Dillen moves to lean against the wall. "Can't say I blame you. But I have to. I'm gonna challenge for Fostern at the next moot."

Kenneth narrows his eyes, not from pain but from that flicker of jealousy. "And, what makes you so sure you're fit to challenge?"

"I have been in many battles and been victorious. I tell many stories of those battles. I have helped raise several cubs. I have mated and soon there will be another child that I hope will breed true. I think I am ready. Plus, I am now alpha of a pack that has gone through a lot of hell but has also kicked a lot of ass." Dillen puffs himself up, folding his arms across his chest.

"Tche." The Shadow Lord turns and sits further back on the bed, leaning against the concrete wall behind him. He doesn't, however, continue to dog the galliard. "Who're you looking at. To challenge."

Dillen takes a breath. "I wish it could be Jamethon-Rhya but Emma wishes to challenge him. So it looks like I am going to challenge Kaz-Rhya of the Bone Gnawers. She's a Galliard so it should do well." Dillen shrugs at the choice. "She's the best choice behind James for me, it seems."

Kenneth looks up briefly, his recently healed nose wrinkling. Still he says nothing about the choice. Then his face returns to that cold neutrality from before. "I ain't gonna be watchin'," he says after a long pause, "but... good luck anyway."

A slight smile seems to grow across the Galliards face, "Yeah, thanks." He nods his head and kicks at a dust bunny on the floor, "And lets get you up on people's lists... What do you say?" Dillen nods his head some, "I mean, you can't help being a shadow lord and all." It's clearly a joke and hopefully Kenneth will find it amusing.

The Shadow Lord clenches his jaw again, and shakes his head roughly. Either he acknowledges the joke, or he disagrees with something. Either way, he says nothing on it.

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