Valerian Fedor (Aug 7, 2010 10:11:50 PM)
(This user has entered The Nest *Silver Fang Tribal Grounds*) (IP = 24.15.241.228)
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 10:14:07 PM)
(This user has entered The Nest *Silver Fang Tribal Grounds*) (IP = 174.50.121.121)
Natasha Ormanian (Aug 7, 2010 10:15:38 PM)
(Who's posting first me or you val?)
Valerian Fedor (Aug 7, 2010 10:15:44 PM)
(I can)
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 10:15:49 PM)
[it don't matter, I'm still winding down over here. ;)]
Natasha Ormanian (Aug 7, 2010 10:16:23 PM)
(ok go for it val)
Valerian Fedor (Aug 7, 2010 10:17:00 PM)
*he drove up to the tribal grounds, having not made his official visit to them since his arrival, it seemed now was as good a time as any to do so. The loud rumble of the
Valerian Fedor (Aug 7, 2010 10:18:04 PM)
(grr, stupid enter key) V8 engine announced his presence as he approached and pulled up, parking and shutting off the car, sitting in the silence for a moment before composing himself and sliding out of the car* (btw, what do the tribal grounds look like? lol)
Natasha Ormanian (Aug 7, 2010 10:18:17 PM)
*When he parked the large muscle car she waited a moment. Checking her reflection in the mirror before she fiddled with the old fashioned seat belt.*
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 10:19:50 PM)
[hold on a second]
Natasha Ormanian (Aug 7, 2010 10:19:58 PM)
(ok)
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 10:27:51 PM)
The victorian reminiscent manor home of the Silver Fangs is found on the very fringes of the bawn proper. Being the color of a faint whitewash, the lavish two story building bears all the authentic means as a building of this stature would provide in it's original design. Protected by the Historic Society of New Orleans in terms of renovation or redesign, the home gleams like a beacon among its more contemporary neighbors. The front reveals a large bay window on the lower tier while it wanders upwards beyond to the curved roofline that reaches its apex in a gable. The driveway is cobbled with eroded stone, and blanketed with gravel and grit.
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 10:27:57 PM)
[sry about the wait]
Valerian Fedor (Aug 7, 2010 10:30:09 PM)
(np)
Natasha Ormanian (Aug 7, 2010 10:31:18 PM)
*She gazed at the place, the last time she was here was to give her gift to falcon. The place was a wonder to behold upon her first visit and after her last visit it held even more meaning to her. She slipped her hands against her pants as she moved beside her guardian towards the steps. Dressed in casual wear her tennis shoes barely made a sound on the cobble stone and the gravle did not trip her up as it might have if she wore heels.*
Valerian Fedor (Aug 7, 2010 10:33:53 PM)
*he looked up at the house for a moment, having driven nice and slow on the gravel so as not to spit it all across the underside of his car, the opulance of the place not all that suprising as it seemed to mirror a little more of what he was used too, he approached the door, ringing the bell or knocking the knocker, whichever this one happened to have*
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 10:36:08 PM)
The steps of three lead up to a massive porch that spans across the entire front and flanks of the lavish building. Only it has been given the okay to remodel and renovate due to the condition of the lumber trade in the late 19th century; and it shows with startlingly vibrant grains and grooves of the planks. The porch leads to a solid core door, white in its lack of pigment and authentic of its period. There appears not to be a doorbell of any type to press, though a brass knocker has been mounted at eye level. It's knocked upon, and the sounds of muffled rhythmic thumps ring out from deep within. The thumping steps grow closer, and the front door is opened from within as a creak rings out.
Natasha Ormanian (Aug 7, 2010 10:38:32 PM)
*she listened as the deep foot falls came towards the door. Her bright blue eyes stared at the knocker and awaited the opening of the door. Every little detail was being absorbed in the brilliant light of lunas gaze. Last she was here she was rather nervous and missed the true beauty and age of the building.*
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 10:40:14 PM)
A large man of intriguing girth, riddled with scars across his face and arms answers the knock. He is adorned in a tanktop of startlingly vibrant while, and his exposed flesh of his collarbone and burly shoulders reveal complete chunks removed in random areas as far as the eye can see. His legs are concealed in a pair of grey, black, and white BDU's, and the man bears all the hints of many battles, surviving some with the blind luck of endurance.
Valerian Fedor (Aug 7, 2010 10:45:01 PM)
*he seemed to stand a bit taller, his shoulders back and his body a little more rigid as he now stood on the lands of his tribe, he adjusted his clothing one last time to be as formally presentable as he could be without making himself stand out more than he should, his eyes on the door as the heavy footfalls finally revealed the man who they belonged too* Good evening. I am Valerian Fedor, deeded Truth in Thought, Wing of Falcon and of the Lodge of the Sun and the Clan Cresent Moon and Cliath of the Nation. *he held off on the long list of his lineage at the moment as this was a somewhat informal meeting with whoever this person was at the door*
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 10:45:53 PM)
His face reflects the dimly lying sunlight in a sheen of burned rippled flesh. Across his left temple are three deep grooves of scar tissue that span beyond his throat, to his shoulder, further down beyond his elbow and falling just short of his wrist. His gaze falls on Valerian with a look of stifled irritation. His expression is stern, hard to read and undiscernable of any underlying emotive. He glances to Natasha, and recognizes the kin from their meeting the prior night, but the glance is all she gets. The man hears out the introduction bade to him, and his head slowly nods in recognition to his name, deed, and house.
Natasha Ormanian (Aug 7, 2010 10:47:12 PM)
*Her smile brightened considerably when she saw whom it was who answered the large heavy door. Her gaze on the large ahourn flittered from him to the philiodox with a eagerness about them. *
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 10:48:19 PM)
"Ye may en-turr, Truth-Een-Thawt. Falcon sees your deeds and welcomes you to his home." He responds with a deep tone of some european accent muddling each syllable. He takes a single step to the left and relents his hold on the doorknob, arcing the free arm inward to allow them free reign into his territory.
Valerian Fedor (Aug 7, 2010 10:52:45 PM)
*he bowed his head* The honor is mine to share in his home. *he took note of the small glance and decided better to err on the side of caution as he stepped into the house* This is Lady Natasha Ormanian of the Clan Cresent Moon, neice of Queen Tvarivich.
Natasha Ormanian (Aug 7, 2010 10:55:31 PM)
*she steeped in with Truth in thought. She pulled the white cap off her head as she stepped in and her long midnight colored hair tumbled out. She tucked a strand of it behind one ear as her bright blue eyes scanned the interior. She of cource stayed quite silent as the true born spoke.*
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 10:59:12 PM)
"Her face ees known to these eyes, though these ears haf not heard of her ties to Her Majesty of Cresent Moon." The burly man reveals in a meager and modest fashion. He allows the duo entry into the home unimpeded by words or action. He merely reaches to the door and offers it sealed with a creaking click of hinges and latch. As if these sounds cued some inner change to manifest, the Fang's shoulder lower in a deflating manner. Weariness manifests on his scarred appearance though the regal bearing of his own blood never wanes nor ebbs in their presence. He leads them past the foyer and into a lavish sitting room decored with oaken furniture and beechwood frames of portraits of ancient faces of warriors long gone. They're unfamiliar to the duo, but they all bear those high cheekbones and majestic stature.
Valerian Fedor (Aug 7, 2010 11:04:26 PM)
*he would follow after Hans quietly, he could sense the other Garou's rank, though his breeding was no purer than his own, his eyes watching the mannerisms carefully as he walked after him into the sitting room, sharp gaze darting swiftly to the portraits hanging along the walls and then back to Hans, having not yet recieved a response to his introduction, he did not let his bearing drop for the moment*
Natasha Ormanian (Aug 7, 2010 11:07:39 PM)
*Natasha looked around the mannor house at the portraits of the ancient faces of warriors long gone. Looking for farmilliar features in there faces of stories shes heard and read, or family lines she studied. She some how managed not to trip over her own two feet as her brain processed it all..*
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 11:10:25 PM)
A hand bearing four fingers is extended towards a series of three green leather chairs of antiquitous design. The man remains silent in speech and animated in gesture as he moves with a slow purpose through a second doorway. The sound of a refridgerator is opened and closed, and the faint clattering of glass rings out from afar. Moments later, the man arrives with a serving station that offers a decanter of some brownish liquid with opaque cubes of ice floating atop it. Also provided are three small glasses of crystal stemware.
Natasha Ormanian (Aug 7, 2010 11:13:29 PM)
*she had taken her seat. Allthough she was in common clothing she never lost her mannerisums. Legs where crossed back was straight. Her chin was level though her eyes continued to slide over the decor and paintings. before they gazed towards her guardian once more.*
Valerian Fedor (Aug 7, 2010 11:14:15 PM)
*he took the motion and quietly sat in the chair, watching as they were served by the Fostern without so much as a word, his own back straight as he sat in the chair despite his usual desire to slouch, his hands resting to the side in an open and approachable manner, his eyes still following the other Garou's movements*
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 11:17:20 PM)
Each glass is poured with equated content of the elixir, and the aroma that arises offers a thousand hints that it is not an Iced Tea. With the chore done, a glass is offered to each of the duo. "Beware." He warns in a single word. "Ze burn comes vith ze drink." He offers in a cryptic sense. As the glasses are offered, the Fang sits down in a slump against the unoccupied chair with his back to an extensive fireplace, and his bearing is offered in a slightly more casual expression.
Valerian Fedor (Aug 7, 2010 11:22:01 PM)
*he took the drink as offered and nodded his head, taking a slight sip of whatever it was to get a taste of it before indulging completely, not wishing to offend by declining anything offered and not wishing to end up coughing from what might be an overpowering drink* Thank you... *his voice drifting off for a moment in the polite indication of not knowing what to call the other man*
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 11:22:08 PM)
"Ze disfigured man before you ees Ender-of-Blight." He finally says as his throat clears bonds of phlegm from his throat. "He is Hans to zhose who know not vhat deed is. He has lived to see his tales spoken to Fosterns, and seen as sooch by ze Elders of his House." He continues, pausing for a moment. "Hans vas born on an eclipsed full glaring of Her Luna in z'night skies, and given to Purifies-Taint, Eldest ahroun of the Gleaming Eye. He is third Sentinel to ze Eye, trainer of war to Prince Calvin de Provence the fourth, und eldest of our tribe within the Shared Blood."
Natasha Ormanian (Aug 7, 2010 11:24:16 PM)
*She smiled at him, leaning foward legs remained cross as her arm streached towards the glass, her delicate hand reached out for the elixir and picked it up with ease. She slowly began bringing her arm back to her as she inhaled the scent of the liquid with a nice relaxed smile. Her posture never failed though the glass was brought to her lips. She tilted the glass ever so slightly as her upper lip lifted to slightly open her mouth and allow the cool brownish liquid entrance. Though her long lashes fluttered as she tasted it before her eyes closed and she seemed to savor the taste before holding onto the glass in both hands and allowing herself to swollow it. The liquid cool in texture did have a nice burn as it slipped down her throat and assulted her pallate. However Natasha seemed to enjoy that effect more then one might antisipate. A small smile slipped on her lips and she was about to compliment him on it till she realised they had gone back to talking.*
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 11:25:04 PM)
"He knows the thousand faces of Thaena, who guard her Stargazer friends." He continues. "He knows the rumbling of Amacolth, who shakes the earth with relentless wrath. He has heard the screech of Hawk, and knows the many mysteries of the Lodge Eu Luna." He pauses as he raises a glass. "He sits before you now, Truth-Een-Thawt, un declares your guard for ze neice of Her Majesty just, und he sees your deeds true." He adds. "Welcome, brother-become. Welcome to ze Sept of Shared Blood."
Valerian Fedor (Aug 7, 2010 11:28:59 PM)
Well met Ender of Blight-rhya. I am honored to be so welcomed before you and seen worthy of the duty to which I have been assigned. *he bowed his head again from his seated position* I wished to make myself available to you sooner, but it would seem the Wyrm would not give the moments respite necessary to do so.
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 11:37:30 PM)
"Our ways are not alvays oof our choosing, young Truth-Een-Thawt." He confides in agreement, knowing all well the stations of duty and obligation. "Please, relax now. You find yourself in my most humble home, where prying eyes cannot peer. Here you shall call this man simply Hans." He confers, glancing to Natasha who has held her tongue and stature since arriving. "As you, young one. There ees no status here in times oof peace. We are all friends und equals under zis roof."
Natasha Ormanian (Aug 7, 2010 11:37:56 PM)
*She decided since they where getting along so well and chatting it up she would focus more on the yummy warm elixar. She lifted the glass back up she tilted it to the right then left a bit to get the ice to click and swirl before bringing it back towards her lips inhaling the scent cause a delighted flicker of her lashes as the lids began to close while the rim of the glass pressed against her botttom lip once more. Her upper lip parted slightly as the liquid was once again permitted past the pouty flesh and into her mouth to splash against her taste buds bursting with the flavor of the fire water.*
Natasha Ormanian (Aug 7, 2010 11:40:23 PM)
*Her eyes opened as she heard the term younge one. And she pulled the glass from her lips and swollowed the liquid as it sent a warm firery presence down her spine to rest within the confines of her belly. She smiled over at hans, and nodded her head to him.*Thank you so much for youre hospitality, and this drink is simply devine as well.
Valerian Fedor (Aug 7, 2010 11:43:08 PM)
Valerian will be fine for me, Hans. *he was very careful with the name for a moment, as if trying it out on his tounge before finally relaxing some, sinking back into the chair for a moment with a deep breath and a small sip on the fine liquid*
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 11:45:18 PM)
"It is from old country." He reveals in a more casual and relaxed manner. "Ze drink which you sip is a bottle of Schnapps that is older than any of us in this room. Eet could be older zhen zis house, in fact." He offers as his rumpled back situates deeper into the diveted cushions of the hunter green leather chair. "It vas a gift from my father for traveling to Amerika, und it has survived many miles of travel, and has many tales of its own."
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 11:47:22 PM)
"So, you have qvestions, coon-serns?" He asks the two with a voice rising an octave in muffled and relented curiousity. "Hans has only one rule in zis home; zhat those who enter that door will speak freely."
Valerian Fedor (Aug 7, 2010 11:49:17 PM)
*he nodded his head lightly as the singular rule was laid out before him and he took another sip of the liquid* My concerns run mostly with what has been going on here of late. The concerns of the Sept as a whole it would seem. These strange tales of kinfolk attacking Garou. I've not heard a great deal and would like to know more about this growing problem.
Natasha Ormanian (Aug 7, 2010 11:52:39 PM)
I would like to know about that also.
Hans Lange (Aug 7, 2010 11:57:45 PM)
He hears the requests of the duo and his head nods in a slow, knowing fashion. Some pigment of reflected light flickers behind the gaze of jade-tint behind the almost shaped eyelids. "...There is much to ze events zhat surround ze Vew-Dew Craw-feesh which remains uncertain to the ears und minds of our crescent moon borne." He explains in a slightly elusive manner. "Our Gibbous know not of any tales that speak of our cousins bearing such hate against their guardians. Vhat is known, zhough, is that there lies a slumbering beast of ephemera on ze other side of the guantlet, und it has roused." He pauses as his own slender crystal is raised to his lips and tilted back, allowing only a few tiny droplets to escape its crystaline prison and leave a lingering burn at the edge of his tongue.