Your Sake [Hellforged]

Drew Roscoe
Christmas had come and gone.  The New Year was nearly a full month in, and things had been pretty quiet.  Rumors had calmed themselves to quiet whispers of the old year now gone.  The world was gray and icy, and things seemed to be asleep for the season.  The hills seemed to be hibernating, and the denizens had followed suit.

So, it was no doubt a surprise when a small blip on the new Jarl's radar had made contact again.  A call came in to his cellphone the day before, and Drew was on the other line.  Her tone was polite enough, but more firm business and tolerance than anything else.  This wasn't a pleasure call, nor was it a chat to make friendly.  She cut to the chase:

"We need to wrap things up.  If you're free tomorrow, I'll be home anywhere after six in the evening.  We can talk then."

He'd agree, either he had no agenda for the next day or he found a way to make time for the outsider Kinfolk, because not long after the sun had gone down over the hills to the West and dusk had shifted into dark, Hellforged would find his way to the little white house out among trees and fields on a winding road that leads out of/in to Browntown.

Drew would be outside when he approached, even though the temperature hadn't gone above the mid-twenties all day and was only plunging closer to the single digits with every dozen minutes passing since the sun had gone down.  The little Kinfolk was bundled up in a red down winter jacket that cut off at her hip, a pair of snowpants tucked into waterproof boots, a black winter cap on her head and a scarf about her neck.  Her hood was pushed down and scarf loosened from her face, though.  She was just finishing shoveling snow from her sidewalk, and had apparently worked up enough heat doing so to warrant taking her hood down and uncovering her face.

If there was ever a good time to sneak up on a Kinfolk and give them a start, it would be now.


HellforgedHe pulled up in his truck and stepped slowly out. The rigid features of his face were both worn and rugged. He might have even been pretty once but the fires of war in which he was forged had seen fit to even take that from him. What remained was a scarred and empty looking face that had seen far more than any should at his age.

Augmund wasn't really the kind to sneak up on anyone. He even had difficulty sneaking up on his enemies! Where is the honor in combat if there is no risk? So he'd be even less likely to attempt to surprise a kin of his tribe.

He wore a denim coat, padded inside for warmth, and a dirty old cowboy hat on his head. His blue jeans and boots finished off the look which was intended to be simple, and efficient. He wasn't a fashionista he was a Forseti and he didn't dress to impress he dressed to stay warm in the freezing cold. A pair of leather gloves covered either hand as well!

His breath rose out before him in the crisp air as he approached the figure shoveling snow and his hand lifted to his lips so he could cough against his fist to announce his presence.


Drew RoscoeWell, suffice to say it's rough to sneak up in a truck, so Drew was far from surprised when Hellforged approached and coughed deliberately into a fist to announce that he'd arrived.  Drew had glanced back when his truck had pulled up and squinted to see through his window and make out the shape of his face.  Upon verifying that it was the Half-Moon that arrived, Drew turned her back to him once more to finish shoveling.  She had just tossed the last of the snow from her walkway into the yard when he'd cleared his throat.

Drew propped her shovel up over her shoulder and turned to look back to the Forseti.  Her face was flushed, bright red on her cheeks and nose.  She wasn't smiling, but to be fair she wasn't scowling either.  More than anything she looked to be that odd balance of too cold for too long, and too warm from working under so many layers of clothing.  Her greeting was an upward nod of her chin.  When she spoke, her words rode a cloud of white into the chilly night air.

"Thanks for showin'.  You wanna knock some snow off and come inside?"

If there's one thing she'd picked up after The Boys had gone away and stopped teaching her, it was to offer up hospitality.


HellforgedHe shrugged his shoulders. "Lead the way." He says with a slow and cautious nod of his head. His eyes showed little, his face even less, that expressionless gaze of his was difficult to read as were those empty eyes. He did, however, move to follow her lead.


Drew RoscoeHellforged advised Drew to lead the way.  She nodded, turned, and climbed the stairs onto the front porch of her house.  She leaned the shovel up against the wall beside her front door, just next to a bag of ice-melt salt.  After knocking the snow off her boots on the welcome mat (and, of course, it is actually a mat that says 'Welcome' on it), Drew opened the front door and stepped inside, holding it open long enough for the Garou to get inside as well.

The process of removing outerwear was something to behold, and would be amusing if nothing more for the Half-Moon to witness.  The hat and scarf came off first and were hung on an old-style standing coat rack near the door.  Gloves were tucked into coat pockets, the coat was removed and hung up as well.  Overall snow pants were unbuckled at the straps, pulled down to the waist, and then came off after the boots were removed first.  Then off went the snow pants, and those were hung up as well.  This left Drew in a pair of simple blue jeans and a long-sleeved gray thermal, with her hair in a now-frizzled braid.

Cheeks and nose still bright red, Drew gestured for the man to join her in the kitchen.  "Not sure about you, but I could use something warm to drink.  Tea okay?"

Regardless of his answer, she'd head into the kitchen on double-layered stocking feet to get a kettle of water boiling.  While filling it up at the sink, she'd glance over her shoulder to begin their conversation:  "I figured I should tell you in person-- Eric left the night you came to visit.  He's been gone for more than a month now, and I haven't heard from him since.  Rest easy, the goods aren't being spoiled."  Her tone is difficult to read-- it's hard to tell if she's being matter-of-fact or sardonic.


HellforgedHe followed behind her and he waited just behind her as he entered the house. He took the time to peel off excess layers of clothing, and those boots as well if it looked like it was needed, before he slipped forward into the house.

He took a seat wherever looked comfortable and he nodded his head when she asked about tea. Something warm would be nice... Seeing as how the heater in his truck barely seemed to work these days! Still he wouldn't dare complain about such trivialities... Discomfort was a way of life!

"I'm sorry to hear that." He notes to her in that cold tone. It wasn't entirely asympathetic. After all he knew enough about people and emotions to understand their importance and sway. One doesn't just form a bond like that with someone else and let it flutter out the window without losing at least a little part of themselves with it. "I want you to know I took no pleasure in our last meeting." He says back to her. That too was him being honest. The responsibility of the Philodox was rarely to do the stuff he would like to do! That's someone else's job. Far too often the job of the Philodox was to do the shit no one wanted them to do! it could be a thankless and lonely job.


Drew Roscoe"Yeah, well...."

Drew cut herself off, apparently deciding that what she was initially going to say was plain rude, possibly even untrue, and so she just swallowed the words, shook her head, and put the kettle on the stove.  She pulled two coffee mugs from the cupboard, sifted about through a different cupboard and came back with a pair of teabags to set on the counter.

She turned then, and leaned back against the kitchen counter at the back of the kitchen.  Her palms rested on the edge of the countertop along with her back, and she looked back to Hellforged where he was seated at the dining room table (because, if Drew was in the kitchen, it would be most comfortable for him to sit at the kitchen to continue conversation with her while she busied about).

She just looked at him for a moment, deep brown eyes uncharacteristic of her and Hellforged's shared heritage cutting across his face and reading his (lack of) expression before she spoke again.

"I want an explanation.  I want to understand why it's okay for Eric Sutherland to have a Black Fury Kinfolk for a mate.  I want to know why he gets to have that, and why he gets to stay in the Tribe rather than defect and find another for not taking a Fenrir Kinfolk for his mate.

"I want to understand why I was given that ultimatum when it wasn't given to him.  I want to know why it's perfectly acceptable when a Garou takes a Kinfolk mate from outside the tribe, but it's taboo for me to even give a relationship with someone outside the tribe a chance-- I'm not talking mating, I'm not talking having his children, I'm talking seeing where things go.  Can you explain that to me?"


Hellforged
He listens quietly, watching her with that stern gaze the entire time, and he seems to nod with her as she makes, what he would call, a very valid set of points. He was almost on the verge of smiling at that... Almost!

"You bring up a good point." He notes to her. "The issue with Eric is an important one and I have been made aware of it and when I speak with Eric he will be informed of as much. Poaching is poaching and I will not have Garou or Kin defying our traditions in that manner." He notes back to her. They could call him whatever they wished... An asshole, stuck in his ways, stubborn, old fashioned, a dinosaur but one thing they could not call the Forseti was unfair. "All should be held to the same standards. If one of our own cannot hold himself to these ideals then he, or she, has no place to call themselves Fenrir." He finishes and slowly reaches out for his tea. Something warm to take the bite of the cold off him. This should do.


Drew RoscoeA stubborn streak ran strong in this Kinfolk, a testament to her heritage that made it clear which tribe she belonged to where her physical appearance did not.  She wasn't the sort to back down, not even from a wolf holding the title of Jarl-- a title that indicated the strongest of the Fenrir in the area, the best suited to lead.

She didn't shy away from a battle, always reached for whatever gun she had with her (pistols and rifles in the house, shotgun in the truck, handgun on her person if she was out and about) and aimed for the eyes.  She belonged to her Tribe, and that's probably why she was so offended by the very idea of being given an ultimatum of leaving it.

But, stubborn though she may be, she did a fine job of listening when being spoken to.  So, while Hellforged spoke, Drew listened, even if it was with a bit of a scowl on her face.  She pulled a quietly whisper-whistling kettle off the stove and filled up two cups with hot water and tea bags, then went to sit at the table.  She held one of the two mugs out for the Half-Moon to take before she sat down herself.  When she did, she was directly across the table from him, looking him in the eye while they discussed.

"You can't just go around kicking people out of the Tribe."  Despite her frown, she didn't sound demanding or angry.  Rather, she spoke with the same tone one would expect an adviser to have.  She was offering up advice and realism (or what she perceived to be as such) to a new leader among the people.

"The Sutherland family goes way back, and so do the Cutlers.  I'm talkin' their heritage is some of the most direct to the Old Times that there is probably in the country.  Just threatening to kick him out of the tribe if he doesn't leave his woman is only going to have both families dethroning you from your new position.  He won't leave the tribe, he won't leave his woman, and there's a very real chance he'll take your throat out if you try.

"That man's tank, and while not trying to talk down your worth as a warrior, I'm advising that while he might not be a leader he is tough as hell."  She paused to take the teabag from her mug and set it in an empty glass that probably held water before and had been left on the table from earlier in the day.  "Plus, she's pregnant.  You're not splitting them up."


HellforgedHe listens to her quietly enough and reserved enough. His gaze doesn't appear to change, he doesn't look concerned, or frightened, or the slightest bit worried by the things she reveals to him. He sips his tea and allows it to warm him. Then his eyes wander around the room, slowly but surely. "You want me to change my decision. However, that would not be wise..." He says as his eyes turn back towards her. "Fenrir are not a tribe that caters to weakness. To back down on the enforcement of our ways and traditions would be to dishonor everything that it means to call myself Forseti. If I were to go that route I might as well laugh at my ancestors, at their sacrifices, at their courage, and most importantly at their honor. Honor is about doing what must be done and not necessarily what one might like to do."

"If Fenrir sees fit to place my entire tribe at my throat then so be it... I will stand and, if need be, I will die to ensure that honor continues to hold it's place within my tribe. Without our traditions, and laws... We are no longer Fenrir. We are nothing. And any Forseti who would stand idly by and allow that to happen does not deserve the blood that beats within his veins." He says this with that even tone of his that seems to be simply explaining his point of view.


Drew RoscoeDrew sniffed some-- her nose was still a little cold and runny from her long bout outside shoveling the walk.  The redness in her cheeks had evened out some, but the tip of her nose was still pink.  She warmed her face by holding her tea mug in front of it, just before her mouth, and taking small sips occasionally.

"Yeah, but..."  She shifted how she was sitting some, crossed her right leg over her left and raised an eyebrow at the Half-Moon.

"Aren't there other things to be more focused on?  Tribal purity's not gonna do anything but lessen our numbers at a time where we need to be trying to drive 'em up.  I've been told there's less and less of you guys being born every year."  She moved a hand to make a sweeping gesture around her, indicating the land beyond the walls of her house.

"How many eligible Fenrir bachelors are there out there?  Who do you figure I should be starting a family with?  Because, from what I know, there's Samuel Cutler-- married, Eric Sutherland-- has his woman and a child on the way.  Then there's you, and no offense but we're far from on the right foot toward compatibility.  And that little paranoid fellow who I've seen around, and I'm far from keen on that idea either.

"At this rate, I'll need to leave the state entirely to find anybody.  What does that say, that your people need to leave you just to perpetuate the race?"


Hellforged"Quantity versus Quality." He says in response to her questions about breeding. "If we start taking anyone and everyone at this point we will only be weakening ourselves as the end slowly approaches. I would gladly take a single Fenrir over an army of sub standard whelps. Our numbers have never been as high as the other tribes... This is the price we pay of the life we live." He finishes while turning his attention back towards his tea.

"In the end I will not force a Fenrir to be Fenrir if that is not what they wish to be. I would rather see one who does not wish this life find their happiness elsewhere than be forced to suffer a life they do not wish to take part in." He says before shrugging and looking back towards her.

"What are your skills?" He finally asks her bluntly and simply enough. Perhaps he was changing the subject but he also found himself displaying a hint of curiosity about the kin.


Drew Roscoe"You know full damn well that I want to be a Fenrir."  Drew half-snarled this impatiently at Hellforged, and pointed a finger at him from across the table while saying so.  She somehow managed to pull this off without coming across as immediately threatening-- sort of like when a grumpy old woman gone steel gray with age and experience gnarls advice at you.

"It's not about me wanting to be elsewhere.  It's about me wanting an opportunity to have a fucking family.  This elitism bullshit about keeping the bloodline pure is the kind of talk that comes back to bite you in the ass.  From what I was taught, from what I understand, it's not about purity of blood, it's about strength of character.  My dad wasn't born into the tribe, but he proved himself and was accepted in anyways.  God knows what his mixed heritage is, but Fenris Himself saw him as good enough.

"Who's to say that anyone else isn't strong enough for Fenris, 'eh?"

A sip of tea, and she answers the question he'd directed back at her.  "What I'm useful at to you guys?  I'm a crack-shot with a gun, and I've got plenty of experience fighting alongside the rest of you under my belt.  Come from a pretty dangerous city, it had more Wyrm than it had us.  I've had to put bullets between the eyes of even several Black Spiral Dancers.  Got myself a name from it-- Long Shot.

"Aside from that, I'm good for clean-up if there's a body that needs taking care of.  And my house is about always welcome to any stray that needs a place to rest their head for a few days."


HellforgedHer response wasn't surprising nor did he seem to take any offense from it. If anything it was refreshing to hear her back up her convictions when it came to her tribe. The fire of the Fenrir was in there somewhere and it shined through in the way her temper seemed to flare. He read that much from her reactions and definitely took it to heart.

"You are right. All who have the strength and courage are welcome among the Fenrir, but they are not Fenrir until they are Fenrir. That is how we determine who has the strength to be considered good enough for Fenris. If you are not Fenrir then you cannot be Fenrir and if you are Fenrir then you will do what must be done to have that much acknowledged." He says back to her. "It's as simple as that... Simple, but not easy, it is never easy." He says with a shrug of his shoulders.

She then mentions her skills and his head slowly nods. "I have spent most of my life in the company of Fenrir. I have found that sometimes our kin are the bravest among us. It's one thing to take a bullet when you know you can recover and it's another to take one when you know it will kill you." He continues.

"So you can fight. I will have to find some way we can make sure your talents don't go to waste out here." What was the point in knowing how to shoot things ig you never had the chance to do so?


Drew Roscoe"While I appreciate the opportunity to make myself useful, I just wanna make this clear."

The kinfolk tapped a finger on the tabletop between them and set her mug of tea down.  She leaned forward, locking her dark brown eyes to his more characteristic light ones.  "I don't much care for your beliefs.  I respect your conviction, because that's core to strength, which is what Fenris needs, but I feel that you are so locked in Old Ways that you have become fundamentally wrong since times have changed.

"You would've been a shining example of what we should be, what our Law should be, if this were the seventeen-hundreds.  It is not.  Things are different, not just in the human world but in our world too.  We're outnumbered, vastly, and the game is shifting to the Wyrm's favor.  You need to rethink where your concerns lie.  Worry about how to make use of me, not who's in my knickers.  Have me be an adult woman, not a teenage girl that needs help being monitored on who's a good idea to date.

"Your conviction is strong, like I said, but I'm pretty sure that your elitism will only poison your victories and turn the majority of us, the more progressive-thinking people of this Tribe, against you.  I invite you in and speak calmly because you're my Jarl, but were that not the case I'd have nothing to do with you, and probably even ignore that you exist at all.  The only reason you're here is because I need you to be, in order to stay in good standing with my Tribe."

She realized she'd been rambling, lecturing, talking down to the Half-Moon.  After clearing her throat, she took up her cup of tea once more.  "Anyway.  I'll do what I'm asked, but only because I have to, not for your sake."


Hellforged"If you think I wish to be here discussing this matter with anyone you are sorely mistaken. If I had my way I would be out there with hammer in hand freely throwing my life away against an unstoppable foe." He notes to her as he amuses himself with the idea that he might, in fact, be a man outside of his time. "When such time comes that I fall to the rending jaws of some terrible beast, or I am humbled by the strength of one of my peers then I am sure there will be much rejoicing at the death of the Tyrant who had the audacity to demand that Garou and Kin uphold the traditions that Garou and Kin have upheld for thousands of years. Until that point... I am the Jarl. So long as you do what is expected of you I could care less what you think and feel of me as a person." He finishes and lowers his glass to the table, on a coaster if she has them, and he takes the time to slowly stand.

"I don't wish to keep you any longer than I need to. I am sure you would much rather be shoveling your driveway or some other unpleasant task than be forced to look at me, and frankly I hate talking. So I will leave you be and wish you a pleasant enough evening." He always did his best to attempt to be polite. This was the Half-Moon in him shining through.

Soon enough he was headed for the door. If she spoke on the way he would listen but something told him that they would have very little else to speak about this evening so he decided it was best he head on his way.