About Mairead KavanaghStat Block:
Name: Mairead Kavanagh Chronicle: Rage Across Ireland Breed: Homid Auspice: Ahroun Tribe: Fianna Willpower: 5
Renown:
Attributes Physical:
Social:
Mental:
Abilities Talents:
Skills:
Knowledges:
Backgrounds:
Gifts:
Rites:
Flaws
Merits
Freebies
XP Expenditures:
Gained:9 Spent: (nothing yet, will get there) Wishlist: Gnosis 2 - 4 Urge:
*thud* *thud*... *thud!* The noises echo dimly in the small room, raising over the sound of rain and the rhytmic music playing from the knee-height speakers next to the crumbling wall. A small glimmer of sunlight sneaks through the open window, lighting up an out of date Celtic FC photocalendar, then disappears as the Scottish sky turns dark gray once more. ------------------------------------------------------- As usual in recess, Mairy was sitting on the swingset, by herself, occasionally splashing away the puddle forming under her seat as she swing over it. Most of the other kids were running around or huddling inside, but she looked forward to every opportunity to get out and breathe some fresh air, even if it rained. She'd always dry out later, and no matter what her mother said, she seemed to be practically immune to getting a cold. A trio of boys made their way towards the swingset, one of them viciously tearing into a packet of crisps, his face and hands smeared with orange powder. Mairy noticed another couple of kids poking their heads out of the door the three walked off, curiously peeking out for a second, before hiding their head back inside. The three boys stood up next to the swingset, the biggest one pointing at the seat. "I wanna swing, aight?", he asked, his grin suggesting that it wasn't really what he wanted. The other two chuckled, one of them shoving another fistful of crisps down his gullet, crumbs falling in the puddles. "Okay. There's more swings.", she replied, before turning her eyes at the crisp-eater as he tossed the empty plastic bag on the ground and frowning. "Ms. McFadden says you shouldn't throw rubbish on the ground, because it's bad for the nature and it's lazy and it makes you look like stupid.", she said, crossing her arms and scornfully staring at the boy with all the indignation a ten-year-old can muster. The boy in the front frowned back. "Well, Mare-y,", he started, calling her her nickname. Mairead was indeed lanky and large for a ten-year-old, and it took precisely ten seconds for the boys last year to come up with it after learning how 'a girl horse' is calleed. "Me daddy says, if ye want the focken place clean, ye should clean it yerself, and not tae bother with that nature s%$&e. And he's nae stupid!", he frowned, kicking in the puddle. Mairy looked at him, standing off the swingset and picking up the garbage. "Well, Callum, if Ms. McFadden says you're stupid when you throw rubbish away and if your dad does it, then he's stupid.", she retorted, flawlessly, yet unintentionally applying the principles of abductive reasoning. Callum frowned, before lashing out and pushing Mairy in the puddle, splashing muddy water everywhere as she fell on her butt. Tears started flowing down her face, as the three boys started giggling. "He's nae stupid! And ye ken what he said 'bout yer ma? That's she's a..." The aforementioned Ms. McFadden was sitting in the teacher's room, just having made herself a cuppa and sat on a chair, as a fifth-grader, short of breath, opened the door. "Ms. McFadden, Callum and Josh and Ricky are fighting with Mairy outside!" Rising akin to a Boudicca of primary education, she walked out of the door, the fifth-grader having to struggle to keep up with the tiny, white-haired woman as she rushed down the stairs. The crowd of fifth-graders was parted in a way only Old Testament individuals can by the aging teacher, as she walked outside. To a sight she wasn't expecting, in all honesty. One of the boys was just throwing a crisps packet next to the bin, trying his best to appear innocent, while Josh was struggling to pry away an angry Mairy, kneeling on Callum's chest with her torn, mud-covered uniform, as a flurry of reddening fists lashed out into the kid's snot, tear and mud covered face. -------------------------------------------------------
Claws:
*thud!*... *thud-thud* The thumping sounds intensify as the sound of police and ambulance sirens blares out in the streets, not an uncommon sound for Govanhill. A drunken voice in the street shouts out, complaining at nothing in particular and everything in general, as the sun glares in once again. ------------------------------------------------------- "Cheers for the lift, Ms. McFadden.", Mairy said, struggling to turn to look at her former teacher. Despite her hopes and her mother's promises, she didn't quite stop growing when she turned 13, and now at 16, she was 5'11", nearing a hundred and seventy pounds and full of muscle. Huddling in the tiny Fiat's front seat and the tinier woman next to her, she forced a smile on her face. "It's alright, sweetie.", Ms. McFadden replied, staring the girl straight in the eye. "Unless it's not?", she asked innocently, as she looked at the grimy apartment building, her face completely blank. "Well... ye ke... know, Ms. McFadden, it's same old.", said Mairy, looking anywhere but her teacher's eyes. "Mum's got a new boyfriend, too, and he's aright, I guess." Putting a hand on the girl's leg, and patting it in a grandmotherly way, she smiled. "That's great, sweetie. And good job today! While I don't support violence, I support sport. I get to brag to the witch coven that one of my pupils is on her way to the Commonwealth Games!", she winked, grabbing a duffle bag from the back seat, her face turning serious all of a sudden. "And if there's anything else, let me know. All I've got to do now is corgies and crosswords, and both get boring fast.", she smiled, waving as Mairy unfolded herself out of the coupe. Standing out in the chilly Scottish autumn, she started her way up the graffitied stairs, the smell of piss, vomit and Buckfast prevalent. A group of three gentlemen were engaged in an undoubtedly legal exchange of white powder and currency, which she did her best to ignore. One of the three started shouting something in her direction, before being hushed by the other two. Staring at the front door, she ruffled through her pockets for a key, staring at the cast-iron door. Sure, the new flat was nicer than the last one, and sure, Mum was happy, and to be truly fair, Ben wasn't the worst one she'd been with. At least he wasn't using, himself. Finding the keychain, adorned with the plush meerkat she'd got from the zoo last year, she unlocked the door, walking inside. The epitome of a well-off bachelor's pad, the walls were adorned by an odd collection of football, rugby and pin-up posters, several bikes in various state of disassembly, and a stack of empty pizza boxes. Dropping the dufflebag from shoulder level to indicate she's home, over the loud English voice talking about possession on the telly, she walked in the living room and the scent of tobacco, beer, and sweat. Ben, a big, broad shouldered man with a leather jacket and a shaved head, and another guy, a rotund fellow with less teeth than fingers and a barely-used tracksuit were sitting around the table. On the table, among half a dozen bottles of beer and three sachets of white powder, was an eyebrow raising amount of money, currently being counted by the two. "Ooh, ye wanker!", Ben grunted in annoyance, throwing the money on the table and picking it up to start counting again, as he glanced at the person walking in, letting out a puff of angry smoke from his cigar. "Now I gotta start over again, ya wee coo...", he grunted, "Am joken, love.", he followed right after, with the tone of someone who wasn't joking, but would much rather avoid trouble when he can. Taking a longer look at Mairy walking in, his attention was drawn to her black eye. "Wha's wrong with ye face? Some c@@* call ye a giraffe again, eh?", he giggled, turning to the other guy, who giggled in turn. She shook her head, and moved to open the fridge, seemingly finding nothing but beer, ale and lager. The cogs of thought continued spinning in his head, as he stood up, frown on his face. "Why are ya so late again?", he asked in a desperate attempt to be even the slightest bit parental. Pulling out a well-hidden box of curry, Mairy took a long, seethful glance, slamming the fridge shut. "Because I was at my boxing match. And mum told me you'd pick me up.", she pointed at the fridge, tearing away a post-it note. "And that she'd left you a note, so you don't forget.", she said, walking to the table and slapping the note on it. The tracksuit aficionado chuckled, before stopping himself as Ben stared daggers at him, his face turning red. Standing up to look Mairy straight in the eyes, he pointed a richly-ringed finger in her face. "Listen here, love! I've took you and your foocken maw oot o focken poverty! I dunnae have ta listen tae yer b~@@%en bout me nae comin' over tae pick ye up! Ya came haem aright! Is nae like some c+$& would foocken bother the daughter of foocken Andre the foocken Giant!" He slammed his fist on the table, knocking a beer over the sachets, as Tracksuit rushed to pick them up. "And I am foocken nae gonna have ya, ya foocken trog, sitting in ma kichen, eating ma foocken curry, and talking s@&%e bout what mer I shoulda done fer ya! Want me tae foocken lick yer shoes, that I bought, eh?", he picked up the note, tearing it in half, as he crashed back onto the chair. A vicious grin appeared on his face, as he took a long draw from the cigar, exhaling the smoke on Mairy's face. "Ye ken what, love?", he grinned, speaking in a much quieter voice. "I think ye should start payin yer part o' tha rent. Yer maw does nae, but at least I get tae shag her. Come round tae tha gym in the morrow." Tracksuit raised an eyebrow. "And that's nae a foocken offer. Ya dunnae show up, I kick ya and yer maw oot soon as she gets haem. Am I foocken clear?", he chuckled. Shouting erupted from the telly, leading to a muffled cheer from the two, as the door slammed shut. Few seconds later, Siobhan Kavanagh walked into the room, putting a big bag of groceries on the couch and taking off her shoes. "How was the match, sweetie?", she asked, seeing Mairy's bruised face, putting a hand on her cheek. "I'm guessing I should see the other gal, huh?", she chuckled, walking to Ben to give him a kiss on the cheek, as he turned to look at Mairy. "Yeah?" "It was great, mum. Ben even took me out for... ice cream later." -------------------------------------------------------
Rage:
*THUD!*... *thud-thud-thud-THUD!* The boxing bag starts shaking viciously, the chain beginning to jingle, as Mairy punches harder and harder, fists landing in it in a flurry of blows. The mellow rock on the radio stops, as a newsman starts speaking in a tame Scottish accent, more appropriate for Holyrood, rather than the rock radio. "And an update on the Rowanhill carnage..." ------------------------------------------------------- Mairy ducked under the blow, bending to the right. He was bigger, but he was slow and lacked technique. Seeing the opportunity, she lashed out, landing a blow under the big boxer's left armpit, a grunt coming out of the man's mouth. Stepping back to dodge the reeling, angry blow, she felt the hands of someone forming the impromptu ring push her back inside. "Get tae movin', butterfly! If we wanted tae see a bird dance, we'd go tae the club!", someone barked out, as the crowd laughed, as well as the massive boxer in front of us, his fat, tattooed chest and arms shaking vigorously as he wiped his face, urging her to go forward. "Come oan, darlen, I dunnae got all day!", he said, words slurry through his seemigly broken lip. Exhaling, she lept forward, leaning to the left, as a massive arm flew towards her nose. Seeing the opportunity, she elbowed her opponent in the small of the back, followed by a punch to the inside of the knee, the massive man roaring and stumbling forwards. Dodging a meaty hook attempting to drag her down with him, Mairy continued her descent downwards on the rising opponent, her fist colliding with the man's already topologically complicated nose. His head bobbed away, sending streaks of blood all around the room, then hit the concrete floor of the garage, knocking him out cold. Leaping up, she peeked through the reveling crowds to pinpoint the strip-club proposer. "Ye wanna come an' dance, pal? Pay ye hundred quid if ye last two minutes!", she goaded, much to the joy of the public, and the man's seeming embarassment. Walking towards the office, she saw two men leave, one a tall, pale gentleman, the other, a smaller and wiry Irish guy, covered in bruises, scars and woad-style tattoos. "Mairead, correct? Excellent style, there.", said the pale man, thick Eastern European accent seeping through the words. The smaller guy raised his head to look at Mairy with a menacing glare, spitting out a toothpick, and continuing onwards to the main area. "Cheers, pal, sir.", she replied courteously, disappearing into the office. "Aight, Ben, that good enough fer ye?", she asked, sitting on a chair and picking up a towel to wipe her brow. "Who was those lads?", she asked, rummaging around for her bottle in the office, not finding it. "Is some blokes from the other side o Glesga. Wanted a fight.", replied Ben, huffing his cigar and throwing pound notes into a shoebox. "Dunnae s'pose ye'd be willing tae have one mer fight tonight, would ye?", he asked, standing up to look through the blinds to the garage. People were bustling left and right, money and sachets changing hands, and a couple of brawls were starting, much to the enjoyment of the people around them. "Wha, with tha wee weedie mickey oer there? The pal's a head shorter than me.", she asked, waving away the smoke with a frown, as she stared at the big Commonwealth Games calendar on the wall. She'd rarely thought about her situation. Sure, she didn't get to compete in the Games, but she has more cash than practically anyone her age, especially those in university. Sure, there'd be days when she'd be waking up with a bruising everything, but at least she didn't have to go and rely on a husband or a boyfriend, like half the girl from her school, peddling two or more kids at 19. Sure, Ben was a c#+* sometimes, but he'd been treating her and her mom alright. Although, it could be because last time he shouted at mum, she'd knock him on his ass. That was two years ago, though. Could've been worse, people were saying. "Aye.", Ben replied, chuckling, as he placed an envelope full of money on the table. "Wee Weedy Mickey is some s*~!hot guy from Ireland, though, Boris musta been a real snake tae make him move here.", he shrugged. "Mad as a foocken coo, they say." He took a long look, pointing at the envelope. "Dunnae spose ye'd want tae lose it oan purpose, would ye? It's a fair bit o' dosh, it is.", he pointed out to the heavy envelope. "Me an' him, an ye an' Weedie, we'd be takin' whatever's in the box from the gits outside.", he suggested, exhaling deeply. Mairy shook her head. "F@+$ off, Ben. I've lost fights, but I have nae dropped one. If the wee git's as good as he thinks he is, he'd betta foocken prove it." Ben shrugged, tossing her her water bottle from under his desk. "Fair 'nough, pal. Ye go an' try then." Stepping into the ring under the barking cries and songs, she stared at the guy. As with most short and wiry men, he'd removed his shirt to show off, and was jumping on the spot, occasionally bending a knee, in a mocking Riverdance-inspired taunt. At the mark, the circle closed, and the two started their approach to each other, careful steps on one side and playful ones on the other, as the Irish grinned his teeth, stepping back to play a couple of jig steps. Oh, sure, it's your f$+%ing first fight of the day... Mairy advanced with slow, careful steps, as suddently, with blinding speed, he ducked forward, sending a couple of punches under her guard, ducking back out. Not the strongest punches, but definitely felt. She grinned at him, taking a step back. "I'd sae ye hit like a lassie, but that'd be too good o'a compliment.", she said, the public exploding in laughter and whistles. Taking his opportunity once more, he ducked forward, trying to get on Mairy's left side, but as she'd read his moves, she darted her hand straight into his face, reeling him backwards. "I thought ye'd seen the match, pal!", she grinned, riling herself into momentum, as she swing for a haymaker, attempting to throw him off balance, hitting a tattoo of St. Patrick's cross as he'd raised his arms to block it off. Up until the break, things were more or less equal. The guy didn't punch hard, but was hellishly fast and could take a blow with a smile. Mairy wasn't quite as quick, but a couple of successful faints and counter-attacks sent the guy tumbling backwards. She leaned on a wall, as Ben made his way down there, passing a water bottle. "He's nae too bad, is he?", he asked. Should get a new bottle, this one tastes funny., she thought, nodding. "Aye, more I bash him, more he grins, the loon." Ben let out one of his most disgusting grins. "Then bash him in the mooth, so he cannae grin.", he said, patting her on the back and roaring out for the second part. As Mairy walked in there the second time, she'd felt the tiredness set in. She'd been up for hours, and already fought someone. Adrenaline should fix it., she thought, shaking her shoulders, as she goaded the already jigging guy forward. As blows were exchanging, she started feeling drowsier and drowsier, as the light started scintillating in weird patterns... "He drugged me...", she muttered out, as two punches landed on her face, sending her reeling. "Ye drugged me, ye foocken bastard!", she shouted, feeling the rage in her rising, wobbly staring at the office. As another blow landed, it was almost as something in her snapped, as she turned to stare at the grinning boxer responsible. "Ye fecking s$+%e!", she barked out, swinging her open hands at the man, who wasn't expecting the blow. Landing squarely on his ears, he staggered back, only to feel a rib-breaking blow in the ribs, looking up, the last thing he saw being a weirdly misshaping forehead impacting his own. Mairy had never felt anything like this before in her life. It was just the fight, the adrenaline. The smell... The blood... The rage... Two brawny men tried to stop her as she made her way towards the stairs, as her hand tore through their coats. Mairy didn't consider that her nails weren't usually that long, or any length at all, as she leapt up the stairs. Why not on all fours, actually. Four legs should be faster than two, right? ...door...
Pouncing through the blinded windows, a massive, red-furred shape howled, pouncing on the crowds. Claws, fangs, screams. The few managing to find their senses struggled to find the fire escape, only to see the doors chained shut. Ben didn't like people leaving without paying, after all. ------------------------------------------------------- *THUD-THUD-THUD... thud* As the boxing bag falls on the ground, the radio host continues. "...police sources indicate that it was a combination of new drugs making their way on the market and an underground dog fighting ring that has led to the biggest massacre in Glasgow since the..." Mairy stares at the boxing bag, as she reaches forward to shut the radio. Staring at the wall, she opens the worn cabinet, and retrieves a small wooden box with a golden medal inside. Turning off the radio and shouldering her dufflebag, she checks her ticket, leaves and locks the door. A set of keys fall through the mailslot a second later.
Unmaking Friends:
The blond man threw another glance at Mairy, standing straight up to attempt to appear taller than her as he walked forward to stare her in the eyes. "Who do you think you are, telling us how and what to do, lass?", Sean asked loudly, baring his teeth at Mairy. She took a deep breath, then one more. Her fist, already clenched to the point of being white, released as she stood up, half a head taller than the other cub. "I didnae said we should listen tae me, pal. An' if there's someone who we should listen tae, pal, is him oar there.", she pointed at the unassuming guy sitting on the bench, seemingly lost on his phone as he chatted away to the other two, pointing at pictures. "'Cause he's the oan who kens Dublin, ye ken? I jus' said, we shouldnae jus' bash in the front door like complete nobheads, ye ken?" The Theurge on the bench stifled a chuckle, drawing him an angry glance from Sean. The playground was quiet, the dusk broken by a flickering street light and the shine from Kenneth's phone, and the two other Garou leaning over it. Mairy stared at the vocal Galliard, who leaned in even forward. "Sure, sure. Skulk in the shadows like some filthy rats, right?", he suggested. Fiona, the tiny, ragged girl, threw him a filthy glance, before looking back towards the phone, mouth moving silently, leading to a small chuckle from the other two. "What was that, mule", he grumbled, clearly annoyed, as he took a step towards the Gnawer-born, before Mairy's hand grabbed his shoulder with an iron grip. "She probably just said ye're thinking with yer fists, Sean. Now goan say sorry for callin' her a mule, 'fore I kick yer s@&$e in, ye d#+*%ead." The so-far calm tone of Mairy turned steel cold, as the trio on the bench stood, cautiously looking at the scene in front of them. Sean turned around, eyes glaring red, as his clothes started straining. "Shut it, b%!&~!", he roared, voice echoing in the abandoned playpark. "Please keep it do...", started saying Kenneth, before quieting down at the sight of a shifting Get cub. Throwing his jacket to the side, the tracksuit bottom stretching as much as possible to facilitate the hairy bottom of a Crinos war-wolf, Sean growled at Mairy. "Alright. Let's go. Now.", he snarled. "No claws!", shouted Kenneth, trying his best to calm the situation. "Let him.", barked back Mairy, assuming a fighting stance. A smile laid on her face. "Fight as ape?", Sean growled, before stepping forward, a growling curse leaving his lips, as he lunged forward, trying to pin Mairy under the mass of his warwolf. Tumbling under the large beast, Mairy did what she could best, given the situation - extend her legs to a vulnerable spot. Two heavy boots strayed up, the hit enhanced by the Get's momentum, as they crunched with a fleshy hit in Sean's tender bits, letting out a blood-curling howl as the Crinos curled in two on the ground, struggling to stand up. "Keep it quiet, ye fookhead!", Mairy snarled back, darting left to avoid a swing from a claw the size of a small child. The claw closed empty, rending the concrete asunder, as Sean stood up, roaring once more. "I said, keep down, ye git!", she barked back furiously, swinging her foot downwards, landing in the Crinos' kneecap. If he were a human, that would've left him cripped for life. For a Garou, that simply left him tumbling on the ground once more. A wild swing knocked into Mairy's midsection, sending her a foot backwards. "That all, pup?", she grinned, reaching for the swingset, effortlessly prying the rusted seat free. As Sean wrestled to stand up once more, Mairy brought it down onto his head, splinters of wood and rusty nails flying everywhere as it fell apart in her hands from the titanic blow. A winded blow tore her jacket's rim, leaving her in a fury, as she started fuming. A string of uncoherent Glaswegian expletives left her mouth. As the Garou attempted to stand up once more, she leapt feet first on his back with the sound of shattering ribs. The three smaller Garou on the bench's mouths stood open as they saw what was clearly the Veil acting up, a nine-foot Crinos losing a fight to a Homid. Falling on Sean's back, knees first, Mairy put her massive hand on the back on his neck, putting all her weight there. A barrage of fists followed the rain of expletives from her mouth, as Sean's muzzle was trapped between the anvil of the cold ground and the hammer of her increasingly reddening fists. "Ye shoulda kept yer fooken mooth shut, ye nobhead!", she roared, as teeth started loosening up and falling from the werewolf. Bucking to throw away his unlikely assailant, Sean's fist landed into Mairy's side, nearly throwing her off. Feeling the moonrage in her veins, she slammed his head into the pavement once more, before leaping up from his back. As he made his final attempt to stand up, reeling, she brought her foot onto his head. The head landed into the pool of blood and teeth with a crack, as it started shifting from a vicious muzzle to the broken face of a man. Mairy stood up, wincing from the blow from her ribs, as she made her way towards the bench, still clenching her fists and breathing deeply. Sitting down with a wince, she looked at the three stunned onlookers, staring in awe. "Oy, Ken. Can I bump e ciggy offa ye? I'm proper skint, I'll pay ye after we're done?", she said. A pack of cigarettes left Kenneth's suit pocket, a cigarette going to each of the expecting hands. "So... I'm guessing you're an Ahroun, then, Mairy?"
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