Mary introduces herself.
Her player writes the introduction up pretty-like and full of character flavor, but later tonight, and this will remind her to do it. Huzzah, Mary's player!
---
"Alas, poor Yorick," Mary says, once she takes the human being's skull. "Did we know him well?"
Look. Some Ragabash who did it. Mary is happy to provide a service. This isn't her sole reasoning for taking the bone. Now that she has it she stands straight and tall in her woman-shape, generous curves and generous hair and generous generous generous, and didn't just such mythic Hero of the nation look-so on the eve of a battle against impossible odds somehow. Mary is a composite picture made from all the greatness that has been and (once and future kings [queens]) might be again. Mary herself, well.
One must judge.
Hopefully, not entirely on a Hamlet joke.
"I am Glory's Shadow, Honor's Thorn. Ragabash of the Silver Fangs." (Of course that's obvious. But the name Silver Fang must still be spoken worn smooth like a stone like a rosary-bead.) "My home is," and a neighborhood is mentioned, perhaps a pair of cross streets. "I watch that street. Henry Smythe is mine. Juliet Smythe is mine. The name Mary is also mine."
"And, listen, I have a call to put out for a pack or individuals ready to act as a pack for Gaia's sake. I am new. You know that. Duty doesn't care whether or not you're new. What does that mean for the rank system?" A glance toward -- the elders, maybe. "Does it make sense, for one to say 'that's a duty for a Cliath' or 'that's a job for a Fostern'?"
Rhetorical. Deep breath.
Mary idly fingers the skull's jaw-edge and if it still has a jaw one is sorry to report that she has it talk with her (energy energy energy) for a sentence or two. "I've been doing my duty. And when I met Little Uproar," the human jaw flaps toward the Fianna, shaking its head like it's full of glee, "who has introduced herself as Goldie Lennox, I asked her to add her eyes to mine. Together we have uncovered a house which needs the attention of a pack or individuals ready to act as pack for the cleansing of this Wyrm-ridden den of trouble. The call goes out to theurges who are wise and the call goes out to other Garou who are ready to fight the mist with their claws and bite through foulest evanescence I've smelled in some time.
"A kinsman disappeared some months ago, and it was into this house, and so have, we believe, other campers. Only the other night we observed the House, the state of the House, and what we believe is at the heart of the trouble. We have ideas about what it is and now it needs to be rooted out, so we come to you. It's old and it's evil."
"If you have kin who might know how to figure out who might have tampered with or filed missing person reports, somebody with the influence to figure out who's got the influence, come to myself and Little Uproar and tell us."
"We've got information for you."
[ooc: THIS IS KENNA'S ONE SHOT. Go go enjoy.]
---
"Alas, poor Yorick," Mary says, once she takes the human being's skull. "Did we know him well?"
Look. Some Ragabash who did it. Mary is happy to provide a service. This isn't her sole reasoning for taking the bone. Now that she has it she stands straight and tall in her woman-shape, generous curves and generous hair and generous generous generous, and didn't just such mythic Hero of the nation look-so on the eve of a battle against impossible odds somehow. Mary is a composite picture made from all the greatness that has been and (once and future kings [queens]) might be again. Mary herself, well.
One must judge.
Hopefully, not entirely on a Hamlet joke.
"I am Glory's Shadow, Honor's Thorn. Ragabash of the Silver Fangs." (Of course that's obvious. But the name Silver Fang must still be spoken worn smooth like a stone like a rosary-bead.) "My home is," and a neighborhood is mentioned, perhaps a pair of cross streets. "I watch that street. Henry Smythe is mine. Juliet Smythe is mine. The name Mary is also mine."
"And, listen, I have a call to put out for a pack or individuals ready to act as a pack for Gaia's sake. I am new. You know that. Duty doesn't care whether or not you're new. What does that mean for the rank system?" A glance toward -- the elders, maybe. "Does it make sense, for one to say 'that's a duty for a Cliath' or 'that's a job for a Fostern'?"
Rhetorical. Deep breath.
Mary idly fingers the skull's jaw-edge and if it still has a jaw one is sorry to report that she has it talk with her (energy energy energy) for a sentence or two. "I've been doing my duty. And when I met Little Uproar," the human jaw flaps toward the Fianna, shaking its head like it's full of glee, "who has introduced herself as Goldie Lennox, I asked her to add her eyes to mine. Together we have uncovered a house which needs the attention of a pack or individuals ready to act as pack for the cleansing of this Wyrm-ridden den of trouble. The call goes out to theurges who are wise and the call goes out to other Garou who are ready to fight the mist with their claws and bite through foulest evanescence I've smelled in some time.
"A kinsman disappeared some months ago, and it was into this house, and so have, we believe, other campers. Only the other night we observed the House, the state of the House, and what we believe is at the heart of the trouble. We have ideas about what it is and now it needs to be rooted out, so we come to you. It's old and it's evil."
"If you have kin who might know how to figure out who might have tampered with or filed missing person reports, somebody with the influence to figure out who's got the influence, come to myself and Little Uproar and tell us."
"We've got information for you."
[ooc: THIS IS KENNA'S ONE SHOT. Go go enjoy.]