{"id":20653,"date":"2025-06-28T04:06:37","date_gmt":"2025-06-28T08:06:37","guid":{"rendered":""},"modified":"2025-06-28T04:06:37","modified_gmt":"2025-06-28T08:06:37","slug":"event-608","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/2025\/06\/28\/event-608\/","title":{"rendered":"Luka&#8217;s Howlers Conert, Teeth and Truth"},"content":{"rendered":"<style>\n    .edgt-post-text-inner p {\n        margin-bottom: 35px !important;\n    }\n    <\/style>\n<p><strong>Date:<\/strong> 2025-06-27 04:03<\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><span style=\"color:#008000\">               (<\/span>Luka&#8217;s Howlers Conert, Teeth and Truth<span style=\"color:#008000\">)<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#008080\">        [<\/span>Fri Jun 27 2025<span style=\"color:#008080\">]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">the <span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">Muse<span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">&#8216;s S<span style=\"color:#5f5fd7\">tage<span style=\"color:#5f5fff\"> at <span style=\"color:#5f5fff\">Inkw<span style=\"color:#5f5fd7\">ell <span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">Coff<span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">ee H<span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">ouse<span style=\"color:#c0c0c0\"><br \/><span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">The stage rises in understa<span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">ted grandeur beneath strands<span style=\"color:#5f5faf\"> of <i>28tw<i>29in<i>30kl<i>31in<i>31g f<i>31ai<i>31ry<i>30 l<i>29ig<i>28hts<span style=\"color:#c0c0c0\"><span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">,<span style=\"color:#5f5fd7\"> their glow casting flickeri<span style=\"color:#5f5fff\">ng patterns upon wooden floo<span style=\"color:#5f5fff\">rboards. Deep velvet curtai<span style=\"color:#5f5fd7\">ns frame its edges, thick an<span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">d plush as they fall in gra<span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">ceful folds against the back<span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">drop of midnight blue walls.<span style=\"color:#c0c0c0\"><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">  At the center of the platform sta<span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">nds a vintage <i>38microphone<span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">, its bras<span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">s details aged by countless hands <span style=\"color:#5f5fd7\">that have gripped it, whispered po<span style=\"color:#5f5fff\">etry into it, sung their hearts ou<span style=\"color:#5f5fff\">t before it. A small stack of hand<span style=\"color:#5f5fd7\">written scribbled lyrics, musings,<span style=\"color:#5f5faf\"> and lost thoughts rests on a stoo<span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">l as an invitation for artists to <span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">breathe life into forgotten words.<span style=\"color:#c0c0c0\"><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">  The audience finds their place<span style=\"color:#5f5f87\"> in deep leather armchairs, boh<span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">emian floor cushions, and plush<span style=\"color:#5f5fd7\"> couches that practically beg g<span style=\"color:#5f5fff\">uests to sink in and surrender <span style=\"color:#5f5fff\">to the story being woven before<span style=\"color:#5f5fd7\"> them. The scent of <span style=\"color:#875f00\">coffee<span style=\"color:#5f5fd7\"> and <i>38ink <span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">lingers in the air, interwo<span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">ven with the quiet hum of voice<span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">s: some waiting, some creating.<span style=\"color:#c0c0c0\"><\/p>\n<p>It is about <span style=\"color:#008080\">60\/span<\/span\/span>\/iF(<span style=\"color:#008080\">15<\/span>C) degrees.  The mist is heaviest <span style=\"color:#393e41\">A<span style=\"color:#393f45\">t<span style=\"color:#394049\"> <span style=\"color:#39414d\">M<span style=\"color:#384351\">a<span style=\"color:#374455\">p<span style=\"color:#374659\">l<span style=\"color:#36475d\">e<span style=\"color:#354861\"> <span style=\"color:#334a65\">a<span style=\"color:#324b69\">n<span style=\"color:#304c6d\">d<span style=\"color:#2e4e71\"> <span style=\"color:#2c4f75\">S<span style=\"color:#295179\">i<span style=\"color:#26527d\">d<span style=\"color:#225481\">n<span style=\"color:#1e5585\">e<span style=\"color:#19578a\">y\/span<\/span\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Uncle<\/span> sits at the back of the stage at a wooden throne placed directly under the full moon. He&#8217;s looking dazed, like he wasn&#8217;t even aware a crowd was here. There&#8217;s two shoulder height birdstands stood in front of the throne, Ravens remarkably calm given the loud crowd. Another sits at his shoulder, the trio staring out at the crowds with black beady eyes as <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Uncle<\/span> shifts about on the throne, searching for a more comfortable way to sit as if he was sleeping. <\/p>\n<p>Amber eyes flash golden under <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Lupita&#8217;s<\/span> hood, the stage lights glinting off the spikes on her jacket. She flips her hood down, letting loose a spill of blood red curls, lifting her burgundy hybrid guitar from its stand, settling the strap over her shoulder. Her grip on it makes it obvious to anyone who&#8217;s familiar with the instrument that she plays leftie, thumb nail standing out against the lack of fingers on that hand, obviously meant for picking. Her right settles onto the frets,comfortably holding as she flashes a grin at Luka and a wink at Alphonse. <\/p>\n<p>A cart rolling behind him, wheels slightly scratching as they roll against the floor, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Alphonse<\/span> drags his instrument up to the stage in pieces. He unloads the set of drums and begins putting together the hardware as soon as he reaches his designated spot settled a bit behind the others on the stage, and after a minute or two he sits comfortably at a set of midnight blue drums-pair of sticks in hand, and already flexing his wrists in small preparatory circles. Lupita&#8217;s wink is returned with a similar one, paired with an anticipatory grin. <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Stacy<\/span> makes her way onto the stage with purpose, following along behind Luka and next to Alphonse and Lupita. A wide grin plays on her face as she gives Uncle a casual wave and then makes makes her way over to her keyboard which has already been set up. She waggles her fingers in pre-warmup stretches before throwing a wink to the crowd. As the tension builds, she cracks her neck and places her hands gingerly on the keys, readying herself for the show to come. <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> stomps his way up to the stage, running up to the centerstage mic and kicking his head back for a full chested &#8220;AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!&#8221; up to the ceiling! It didn&#8217;t quite reach the volume of the howls the city heard often at night, but as <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> leans forwards to the mic, the volume would kick up. &#8220;You lot look HUNGRY!&#8221; <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> roars to the crowd, the speakers set painfully loud, practically an attack on the senses. <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> looks over his shoulder as the rest make their way up. &#8220;Get to ready to make some fucking noise you little shits, we&#8217;re bringing down the establishment with this one. It&#8217;s called &#8220;A Child With Too Many Toys&#8221;, and it&#8217;s about a real piece of work. Lemme tell you about her.&#8221; <\/p>\n<p>Despite what she&#8217;s working with, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Lupita&#8217;s<\/span> fingers dance across the frets, thumb nail picking on her left as competently as any other guitarist could hope to with a proper pick. A rhythm is set with the base notes as the guitar comes in atop, fingers sliding along the unusually spaced strings like she&#8217;s done this a thousand times. There&#8217;s a gentle lilt to the notes, almost reverent, a calm before the storm. <\/p>\n<p>Nimble fingers dance along the keys in well practiced form, subtle electric tones highlight Lupita&#8217;s guitar, the growing sound melding into a haunting and foreboding sound the reverberates through the room. <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Stacy<\/span> &#8216;s eyes wander toward Luka as she continues the recursive melody, building up into a crescendo as his performance begins. <\/p>\n<p>His earlier energy subdued as the song starts up, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> leans in close to the mic, bringing both hands over the top of it as he sings. Matching the guitar and synths, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span>&#8216; vocals come in soft and slow, the rhythmic pluck of the bass and subdued synths matching his slowly rising energy.  <\/p>\n<p>The streets. Are flooded. With <span style=\"color:#875f87\">r<span style=\"color:#875faf\">o<b>03t\/span<\/b\/span>  <br \/>\nWading through <span style=\"color:#875f87\">s<span style=\"color:#875faf\">h<b>03i<span style=\"color:#875faf\">t.\/span<\/span\/span>\/b That falls. From the top.  <br \/>\nIchor dripping down. A pretty little <span style=\"color:#875f87\">tu<span style=\"color:#875faf\">m<b>03o<span style=\"color:#875faf\">r\/span<\/span\/span>\/b  <br \/>\nA skyscraper throne for the <span style=\"color:#875f87\">c<span style=\"color:#875faf\">i<b>03t<span style=\"color:#875faf\">y<span style=\"color:#875f87\">&#8216;<span style=\"color:#875faf\">s a<span style=\"color:#875f87\">b<span style=\"color:#875faf\">u<b>03s<span style=\"color:#875faf\">e<span style=\"color:#875f87\">r\/span<\/span\/span>\/b <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Alphonse<\/span> keeps beat with the song with mimed thwacks of his sticks against the drums, a bounce settling permanently into his shoulders that has his bangs showing peeks of his forehead with every bob up and down. He never actually makes contact during the introduction of the song, his drums a silent addition to the stage&#8230; until the crowd is shown the song hadn&#8217;t really started at all. A furious staccato introduces <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Alphonse<\/span>&#8216; sound to the song, and sets the tone of the noise these punkers are trying to share. <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Uncle<\/span> shifts again in his seat, turning uncomfortably on the seat as if the music was making it difficult to sleep. He turns and whispers to the raven on his shoulder. <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span>&#8216; stance widens as the music hits in hard, his elbows flaring out as he grips the mic, hunching over now as he belts into it. His tone sharpens out like a blade, fast, fierce, and melodic. Aggression heavy in his voice.  <\/p>\n<p><b>67Smug <b>31li<b>32ttl<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">e s<span style=\"color:#875f87\">hit<span style=\"color:#875faf\">, y<span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">ou&#8217;<span style=\"color:#5f5fd7\">re <span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">swe<span style=\"color:#875faf\">et <span style=\"color:#875f87\">whe<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">n y<b>32ou <b>31spe<b>67ak!  <br \/>\n<b>67You&#8217;<b>31d be <b>32pre<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">tty <span style=\"color:#875f87\">if i<span style=\"color:#875faf\">t we<span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">ren&#8217;<span style=\"color:#5f5fd7\">t fo<span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">r th<span style=\"color:#875faf\">e ta<span style=\"color:#875f87\">r th<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">at y<b>32ou <b>31ble<b>67ed!  <br \/>\n<b>67Rot<b>31tin<b>32g s<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">il<span style=\"color:#875f87\">k <span style=\"color:#875faf\">in <span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">a <span style=\"color:#5f5fd7\">b<span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">oa<span style=\"color:#875faf\">rd<span style=\"color:#875f87\">ro<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">om <b>32s<b>31ea<b>67t!  <br \/>\n<b>67Dre<b>31sse<b>32d i<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">n g<span style=\"color:#875f87\">old<span style=\"color:#875faf\">, y<span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">our <span style=\"color:#5f5fd7\">de<span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">cay <span style=\"color:#875faf\">st<span style=\"color:#875f87\">il<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">l <b>32re<b>31ek<b>67s!\/span<\/b\/b\/b> <\/p>\n<p>With a casual toss of her head as she jams out on the keyboard, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Stacy<\/span> &#8216;s hair whips out in a wave of tumultuous strands highlighted by the stage light. Her fingers continue their delicate work along the keyboard, the eerie notes of the keyboard highlighting the other&#8217;s performance with an undercurrent of barely veiled violence that starkly contrasts her movements. <\/p>\n<p>Taking note of Uncle sitting back, with Luka at the fore, Jenny, Lupita, Alphonse and Stacy setting up, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Roberta<\/span> begins to take notes; Attention drifts to their setup, their form, the placement of the stage and the ambiance, with a snap of the fingers performed from by the wall to test the acoustics. Another few notes are taken, though veiled as she is, and with expression a blank mask, what ever the deliberation affords is left ambiguous. <\/p>\n<p>Lupita taps her booted foot to match the beat of the drums, eyes flicking to Alphonse only a moment as she flashes a feral grin to him, fingers not missing a single note even in her distraction. Her playing is surgical, shredding as easily as her claws rend. <\/p>\n<p>No god among men at drums, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Alphonse<\/span> has regardless clearly found some time to practice somewhere. After his introduction, he fades into the background of the song, competent but not attention grabbing-certainly not compared to the sparkling aura of Luka&#8217;s rockstar vibes. To any who find themselves watching <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Alphonse<\/span> rather than the stars of the show, they&#8217;d find him with a focused look, an intent set to his face as he bashes his drums for the pleasure of the crowd. <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> steps back as Uncle takes over, his face still curled up with aggression as he flails behind the man in time with the jagged music. His flails eventually settle into something vaguely resembling a HXC two step, his arms flung through the air one after the other as he skips his feet out under him for hard, violent looking stomp-kicks in time with Uncle&#8217;s lyrics <\/p>\n<p>As the second verse hits it&#8217;s end, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Uncle<\/span> sits up with a start, his gaunt hands gripping at the throne&#8217;s wooden handles, his eyes open wide enough that the red vessels were visible all the way from the crowd. He pushes himself to his feet, the Ravens launching into the air with wild flapping as they scatter in all directions.  <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Uncle<\/span> slowly stumbles his way over to the mic, stretching out his chest and scowling before he slaps a hand onto it and pulls it close. He starts spitting into it in a hateful, broken voice, heavy with a strong european accent.  <\/p>\n<p>Lord of peak  <br \/>\nHalf bent beak  <br \/>\nFeather of crow  <br \/>\nRule below  <\/p>\n<p>String, pulled  <br \/>\nPuppet, fooled  <\/p>\n<p>The seemingly nonsensical rhymes flow out in a way reminscent of the heavily schizophrenic. Hateful, and full of malice as the Raven&#8217;s circle over his head and <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Uncle<\/span> glares over the top of the mic.  <\/p>\n<p>Eye on land  <br \/>\nBlind the hand  <br \/>\nAbrupt scowl  <br \/>\nWhen howl  <\/p>\n<p>String, pulled  <br \/>\nPuppet, fooled <\/p>\n<p>The energy continues to rise as the song progresses. A relentless increase of pace, and the drums thudding a chest vibrating backdrop to it all. <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Alphonse<\/span>&#8216; arms are blur as he keeps up with the increase in pace, and the intent look of focus seems about to only sharpen, when a glancing look upwards, a glance meant to steal a small look at Lupita sees the energy of the crowd. He pauses, eyes going wide, and the stern look on his face shatters into a bright grin instead. The practiced but cool drumming immediately warms up as more mistakes are made, but <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Alphonse<\/span> has far more fun with it, infected by passion of the song and the stage and the other Wolves atop it. <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Lupita&#8217;s<\/span> fingers move faster now, pressing into the frets with a speed that doesn&#8217;t sacrifice a single note. Her thumb doesn&#8217;t just pick, she works it, rolling the digit across the strings like she&#8217;s carving out the sound. The hybrid snarls under her hands, sharp and unforgiving, but her focus never slips. Her eyes sweep the crowd, slow and deliberate, gaze cool with something close to disdain, not cruel, just distant. She&#8217;s not here for them. She&#8217;s here for the music, for the pack, for the rhythm her mate pounds into the stage behind her like a second heartbeat. She shifts her stance as the oppressive wall of sound hits its peak, eyes going to Luka, instincts dragging her attention to the alpha. <\/p>\n<p>Her face hidden by a mass of tangled brunette locks, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Stacy<\/span> brings the octaves higher, lingering on notes that resonate through the room in a flurry of aggressive successions, each timed to perfection and merging into the chaotic harmony that gives the Howlers their unique flare. <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> stops his flails just long enough to march up to the mic, snatching the thing off the stand as he continues two stepping, waiting for his mark as the music picks up. As it reaches it&#8217;s highest, he leans back far in a power stance, chest to the sky as he brings the mic up above his mouth, howling out his lyrics as loud as he can, the blunty overtuned speakers shaking the entire room.  <\/p>\n<p>Child in charge bring her <span style=\"color:#875f5f\">D<span style=\"color:#875f00\">O<b>24O<b>66O<i>08O<b>67O<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">O<span style=\"color:#875f00\">O<b>24O<b>66W<i>08N<b>67!\/span<\/b\/b\/span>\/i  <br \/>\nTake out the top, take her to the <b>67G<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">R<span style=\"color:#875f00\">O<b>24O<b>66O<i>08O<b>67O<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">O<span style=\"color:#875f00\">O<b>24O<b>66U<i>08N<b>67D<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">!\/span\/b>\/b<\/span\/i  <br \/>\nShe&#8217;s Antoinette, we&#8217;ll show her the <b>67B<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">L<span style=\"color:#875f00\">A<b>24A<b>66A<i>08A<b>67A<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">A<span style=\"color:#875f00\">A<b>24A<b>66D<i>08E<b>67!  <br \/>\nHer head&#8217;s gunna roll, the rot&#8217;s gunna <b>67F<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">A<span style=\"color:#875f00\">A<b>24A<b>66A<i>08A<b>67A<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">A<span style=\"color:#875f00\">A<b>24D<b>66E<i>08! <\/p>\n<p>As Luka takes back the mic, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Uncle\/span\/b>\/b<\/span\/i stumbles back, walking as if he'd been leaning on the mic in order to keep himself steady. He falls to his knees like the words he'd spat had taken everything he had out of him, his raven's swooping from the sky to perch around him, croaking loudly at the man until he starts to once again climb to his feet. Back up to his feet the man, despite obvious exhaustion, starts to flail his limbs wildly about in time to the music. \n\n<br \/>Scowling, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> gathers Lupita and Uncle up either side of him, putting his arms around their shoulders for a moment.  <\/p>\n<p><b>67I<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">S <b>24T<b>66H<i>08I<b>67S <span style=\"color:#875f00\">W<b>24H<b>66A<i>08T <span style=\"color:#875f5f\">Y<span style=\"color:#875f00\">O<b>24U <i>08W<b>67A<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">N<span style=\"color:#875f00\">T<b>24?<b>66!  <\/p>\n<p>Abandoning singing just to scream down the mic, his glaring eyes flick between Lupita and Uncle either side of him, instructing them ready  <\/p>\n<p><b>67T<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">H<span style=\"color:#875f00\">I<b>24S <i>08I<b>67S <span style=\"color:#875f00\">W<b>24H<b>66A<i>08T <span style=\"color:#875f5f\">Y<span style=\"color:#875f00\">O<b>24U<b>66&#8242;<i>08L<b>67L <span style=\"color:#875f00\">F<b>24U<b>66C<i>08K<b>67I<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">N<span style=\"color:#875f00\">G <b>66G<i>08E<b>67T<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">!<span style=\"color:#875f00\">!  <\/p>\n<p>The guttural scream is matched with a violent headbang done in unison between the three Howlers, going all the way from fully standing to a deep crouch, almost crashing their foreheads on the ground.  <\/p>\n<p><b>67L<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">I<span style=\"color:#875f00\">T<b>24T<b>66L<i>08E<b>67. <span style=\"color:#875f00\">T<b>24U<b>66M<i>08O<b>67R<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">. <b>24B<b>66I<i>08T<b>67C<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">H<span style=\"color:#875f00\">!<b>24!  <\/p>\n<p>Another deep, heavy headbang, their hair swinging out into a mess in front of them as they stand out of the crouch and prepare for another.  <\/p>\n<p><b>67L<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">I<span style=\"color:#875f00\">T<b>24T<b>66L<i>08E<b>67. <span style=\"color:#875f00\">T<b>24U<b>66M<i>08O<b>67R<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">. <b>24\/<b>66C<i>08U<b>67N<span style=\"color:#875f5f\">T<span style=\"color:#875f00\">!<b>24\/  <\/p>\n<p>The music cuts as the three raise their heads up from the final headbang. <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka\/span\/b>\/b<\/span\/i is clearly dizzy from all the blood running to his head as he stumbles his way back to the mic stand with a scowl, leaning on it as brings the mic up to his mouth one more time and without any music now, let's one final, throat tearing howl! \n\n<br \/>Jenny sits straight up letting out a loud howl as the people on stage let one out. Slumping back into her seat after she does. <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> glances over his shoulders at his pack mates, flashing a wide toothy grin at the group before looking out to the crowd. Squatting by the edge, her starts hitting the knucks with random fans in the front row &#8220;Thank you all for coming, we&#8217;ve been Howler. Everyone go beat each other up now!&#8221; <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> instructs the crowd, seeming to be trying to start a mosh pit <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Alphonse<\/span> leans back, face flushed and arms drooping down to the side as the echoes of the last of the screams echo out. He pushes himself up from his drums, sliding the pair of sticks into his belt as he joins the others at the front, the Raveny old man disappearing past as he does so. He waves to the crowd, slinging an arm around Lupita&#8217;s shoulders. <\/p>\n<p>Nodding, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Roberta<\/span> makes a final note, then turns on a heel. &#8220;I love the suit.&#8221; she tells Kurt in passing. <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Stacy<\/span> watches as the raven-clad man makes his way off the stage abruptly. She seems quite used to it and carefully runs her hand over the keyboard before offering another small wave to the crowd. She stays to the background a bit, letting Luka take the lead and makes no protest of the mosh pit, instead standing up and stretching her arms over her head almost deliberately. <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Alphonse<\/span> drags Lupita into a kiss in front of totally moshing crowd, then lets the guitarist go to go pack up his drums, ignoring whatever damage might be being done to the Inkwell. <\/p>\n<p>Lupita giggles into the kiss, sliding her weird ass guitar to her back, out of the way. <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> glances over to Kurt &#8220;Brave man to bring a suit to a mosh pit&#8221; <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> smirks at him. &#8220;Have we met?&#8221; <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> asks the man, hopping off of the stage <\/p>\n<p>Taking her time to carefully pack up a few small bits and bobs, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Stacy<\/span> leaves the keyboard for the crew to take down and makes her way off the stage as well, watching the crowd and doing her best impression of a wall flower for a moment as she takes her phone out to check something. She&#8217;s brief with whatever it is, and tucks it away with little flare. <\/p>\n<p>Constance is rather tall and muscular and intimidating, and is amused by being given a fair berth in the crowd. <\/p>\n<p>Kurt glances up as he&#8217;s referred to directly, evidently lost in some distant thought. &#8220;No, I don&#8217;t believe we have. That said, as for the suit&#8230; One must always look their best, I feel.&#8221; <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Alphonse<\/span> drags both his drumset and Lupita with him over to throw himself into the couch, an energized smile on his face. &#8220;Connie! Don&#8217;t bully the mundanes, come tell us what you thought about the Concert!&#8221; <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Alphonse<\/span> waves over the biggass woman, then turns to beam at Jenny, bumping a shoulder into her own. &#8220;That&#8217;ll be you up there too next time, Jen.&#8221; <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Alphonse<\/span> promises Jenny. <\/p>\n<p>Jenny smiles over to Alphonse before giving a yawn &#8220;Tryin&#8217; to learn&#8230; but I think i&#8217;m gonna get back to bed. The pit beckons.&#8221; <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> glances over to Constance, seemingly trying her best to mosh, but people keeping too wide a berth for her to do so. He glances back to Kurt &#8220;Very true, gotta stay drippin&#8217;. I think you&#8217;d look better roughed up a little though&#8221; <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> tells the man, his tone seeming friendly despite the words being said &#8220;Comon! Help me kick Connie&#8217;s ass!&#8221; <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> calls over to Kurt as he sprints along the stage to launch himself into the air at her! Turning in the air, he crosses his arms over his chest to fall into Constance back first for a picture perfect Darby Allin coffin drop! <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Stacy<\/span> pushes off the wall, making time to say hi to a few fans who&#8217;ve noticed her before heading toward the door. She does offer Constance a small wave as well, her grin wide. There&#8217;s not too much time between her fan greetings before she&#8217;s made her way through the door. &#8220;Really, next time I&#8217;ll def stay longer, just have a thing here soon.&#8221; Is probably one of her most easily caught lines to those she is talking with before she&#8217;s gone. <\/p>\n<p>Kurt remains right where he stands, merely observing the&#8230; Whatever it is he just watched, coffin drop and all. With a soft laugh, he calls out, &#8220;Kurt Steiner, for those I haven&#8217;t met. The pleasure&#8217;s mine. That said, while I would love to stay, I do have a prior engagement. Just wanted to come out, show my support for a local band, hm?&#8221; With that and an idle wave, he turns to depart. <\/p>\n<p>Constance looks up at Luka starts flying through the air at her back-first. She raises up her hands as if to catch Luka in her massive arms and then place him on the ground. It&#8217;s like a trust fall! Yeah, that&#8217;s it! <\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Night, Jen. We won&#8217;t be too far behind you.&#8221; <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Alphonse<\/span> promises Jenny, waving at her. He similarly gives Kurt a wave, yelling to the man &#8220;Thanks for coming out, Kurt!&#8221; <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> lets out a loud &#8220;WOO!&#8221; as he coffin drops only to be very anti climatically caught out of the air. Though, with their relative sizes it wouldn&#8217;t have been hard to predict that as the result. &#8220;Night Kurt! Have a good one!&#8221; <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> calls out to Kurt as he makes sure that Constance would not prevent <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> from spilling onto the floor, deliberately sandbagging to prevent himself from being placed onto his feet! <\/p>\n<p>Constance just ends up carrying a limp Luka in her arms in somewhat of a princess carry. She squints down at Luka. &#8220;So, we gonna do that thing now or what?&#8221; <\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> looks over to Alphonse, Lupita, and Constance &#8220;You guys wanna go show Bobbie some love at her thingamajiggy?&#8221; <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Luka<\/span> asks the trio, seemingly perfectly happy being princess carried by the muscle-nun, crossing his ankles and tucking his hands behind his head as he lays there <\/p>\n<p>Constance says &#8220;<span style=\"color:#00afff\">I haven&#8217;t the slightest idea what you&#8217;re talking about.<\/span>&#8220;<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Date: 2025-06-27 04:03 (Luka&#8217;s Howlers Conert, Teeth and Truth) [Fri Jun 27 2025] the Muse&#8216;s Stage at Inkwell Coffee HouseThe stage rises in understated grandeur beneath strands of 28tw29in30kl31in31g f31ai31ry30 l29ig28hts, their glow casting flickering patterns upon wooden floorboards. Deep velvet curtains frame its edges,&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_bbp_topic_count":0,"_bbp_reply_count":0,"_bbp_total_topic_count":0,"_bbp_total_reply_count":0,"_bbp_voice_count":0,"_bbp_anonymous_reply_count":0,"_bbp_topic_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_reply_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_forum_subforum_count":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[133],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-20653","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-calendarlog"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20653","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=20653"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20653\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=20653"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=20653"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=20653"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}