12/10/2004

07:23 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Jihgfed's Abattoir(#3897RFJ)
Bloody meat hooks dangle from the ceiling and sharp knives lay on the table. Assembled carcasses really put the `slaughter` in slaughterhouse. Ready? Let's get GMing!
Contents:
Joey
Dillen
Lucas
Jihgfed

The rite is done, and the pack is alone. They wait in the Umbra of Harbour Park for some sign, for something. The spirits of the place give them no attention, the Glade Children up in the trees poke out their round faces but pay them no heed. The buildings hunch up above the park, thick spying constructs of web and metal, and the grey Umbral sky which stretches above offers no comfort. Ponderous minutes pass by in which no solution or clue is revealed. Then, with the suddenness of vermin scurrying out from its kitchen cupboard hole, a bright form of light drops from the sky, with no body or apparent biology, just a flickering and shimmering of a hundred little points. It is a lune, child of the moon and one of the Garou's greatest friends in the Umbra, recognizable to all those there. It stops there, above their heads; it seems somehow to be looking at them without eyes, and then suddenly it leaves, streaking towards the park gates and the dark city behind, leaving behind a tingling sensation that's almost sound and a sense of urgency.

Lucas is a figure of strict seriousness tonight. Throughout the rite he's stood straight and tall, and even now in the Umbral city, his eyes are fixed on his surroundings with a hawk's intensity. The Lune is regarded closely, it's path noted. "I assume it wants us to follow it." He muses to the rest of the pack.

Dillen feels his eyes go wide as he looks about this place. He cannot help but give his knuckles a crack as he does so. Finally he looks to the sparkling coming in towards them and his jaw drops. The lune is something he has never seen, all though he has heard of what it is. When it streaks off towards the gate, Dillen looks to Lucas. "Yeah. Follow." He cannot help but give a grin as he thinks about what will come.

Dagger's-Edge, upon entering the Umbra, had taken to his warform like a fish to water. The halfmoon stands about sniffing at the pungent city scent, waiting for nothing, and yet anything at the same time with claws flexing. Just as he is about to make comment, the lune appears zooming about, and then just as quickly zooms off leaving his hackles lifted with that sense of urgency. Edge looks to Lucas and the others, and rumbles an agreement. ~Let's go then, and rock whatever it is that's bothering it.~

Joey remains quiet and a little nervous looking, but gives a sound nod to the idea of following after the Lune. She makes sure to not fall behind the others as they move, and she keeps her eyes scanning about the rest of the area in the realm. Her lips remain sealed and silent.

The lune continues moving effortlessly along, zipping by like its being pulled by a string, like a elevated train on its tracks. The proto-pack follows after it at just as quick a clip though it's anything but effortless, and those not rising into a faster form find it difficult to keep up. This jaunt through the Umbra is different than most, there's an oddness to it, like you're drunk as you puncture the invisible, intangible line separating the park from the dark decay of the rest of the city, like you're stumbling as the streets seem to slope up. The pattern spiders all go about their dull business without noting you, as the buildings begin to blur like you're whipping by, though you're running no faster than you ever have. Still there's a sense of exhileration, the wind is whipping in your faces without being felt, and there's a vague feeling of vertigo that makes your stomach flutter; and then there is a graceful decline, the sidewalks begin to slope ever so gradually back downwards. The lune you're following guides you the entire length of the journey, until the end, when it comes to a blasting stop and smashes itself against a standing mirror that sits right in the middle of a dark Umbral street, surrounded by the web-ridden husks of residential houses, just staring at the pack as it approaches.

The fullmoon Lord takes the lead, dropping down into the skin of the dire wolf to keep up with the spirit. He stretches himself out as he runs, moving with the delirious sensations like he were racing a roller coaster, a race that ends too soon as the lune screeches to a hault. The big wolf skids and brings himself to a stop in front of the mirror. The spirit is regarded and then the mirror with a rumble in his throat.

Jihgfed pages to the room: Sorry if I didn't make myself clear: the spirit's not here anymore. It smashed itself against the mirror in a flurry of sparks and lights and it's gone.

Crinos aren't meant to run, but fight, and so it was that Edge shifted during the erratic clip to the wolf. He ran alongside Lucas on the ahroun's left for a bit, then behind, an in all respects sometimes pulled ahead for the heck of it. It was all abuot the rush of the chase, for short while, and then it was over. Nevertheless, the Shadow Lord philodox had not expected to come to such a strange looking setup. With ears swooped back, he looks at the mirror, then to his packmates. Follow it?

Bloods-Bane had shifted to lupus to keep up better. His breath is quicker and when he finally stops at the end of the street, he chuffs some to the others in a 'good job' kind of way. The senses are soaked in as he runs, taking in all that he can with the experience. Never the less, he tries his best to keep up and once they do stop, his eyes scan the whole area looking around and taking in everything he can before looking back to where the lune splattered. Yes. Is his answer as he looks to the Alpha.

Snaps-Leashes licks at her muzzle, keeping herself towards the back half of the pack as they run after the Lune. Her gaze lands solidly on the mirror it crashes into, and she waits to follow the others in whatever path they so choose.

Thunder's-Forge looks to his packmates briefly over his shoulder before he steps forward to press his nose against the mirror. He eyes take on the distant-looking expression of one ready to cross through the barrier between world, prepared to step through the mirror should he be able to.

Except for the mirror this is the Umbra of any random residential neighbourhood. The house are old enough to have left a shallow mark on the Umbra here, though they're just empty frames, the doorways are like gaping black maws, with spiders trickling in and out. In an alleyway not far there's a glistening dumpster which shines like it contains manna from heaven, and scrounging in it are some of the normal city scavenger spirits, a raccoon and a rat, a fox and a dog. Overhead the sky is merely a dull grey, though there's something that looks like it's gathering there, a shifting in the grey like clouds of the same colour. From quite far off, just as the Ahroun touches the glass and slips through it into some other realm, comes the ragged howl of a wolf angry and curious, the rough query of someone whose territory has been encroached upon, demanding that you tell him who you are. It's distant, though, it's separate: it isn't meant to be answered. Not yet.

His ears perk at the sound as Dillen looks towards the direction of the howl and in doing so notices the dumpster with the assortment of animals having a blast. He then turns his attention to the mirrors and pushes himself against it, following the alpha of the proto-pack if at all possible into the clear surface.

Dagger's-Edge stamps a paw on the concrete below him, snorting and pacing a couple steps to the side. His gaze shoots out to the area around the mirror, spying upon the various spirits that gather in this area. Thunderclouds above make the halfmoon look up, until the angry howl of a wolf distant makes his ears hunt for the origin of the sound. Forge, the halfmoon rumbles with a look back to him, only to see him slip through. Ears come forward in surprise, and with a click of his jaws together, he makes his way forward after the full moon, stopping briefly because Dillen gets in his way. A low growl rolls out from the philodox, before he takes a couple of steps back and waits his turn. No doubt he goes in within a hair's distance after the Get.

Snaps-Leashes lets out a snorting whimper sound and moves towards the mirror with a swish of her tail. She will go last, which, is either the safest position entering, or the most dangerous out here on this side alone. She gazes briefly at Dillen and lets up a chuff of urgency, as if telling him to get a move on.

The group emerges into a dingy alley, muggy and only recently beaten down by rain, the walls are slick and the rooftops drip. A few second's attention shows this to be the same alley they'd seen in the Umbra, but here the ground is covered with the refuse of the city, and the dumpster which had once shone is dull and blackened with glime, and the creatures within it lack even the dignity of a rat spirit. The sounds of the city, cars and shouts, close in on the pack; not far off come the loud sounds of a person trying to attract pennies with a poor rendition of Summer in the City, and closer still a group of teenagers laugh and caw. Not more than five seconds after their arrival though all those sounds are cut short by the sudden raw rip of a chainsaw.

Jihgfed pages to the room: Everything would suggest that you're in the physical world, though there're realms of the Umbra which very nearly mirror the physical world.

Lucas has already returned to his birth form when the rest of the pack follows, out of instinct in defense of the Veil - though he has no idea where they are. He's crouched close to the ground with his eyes narrowed warily, focusing on each sound in turn, but the chainsaw rightly soaks up his complete attention as it sounds, knuckles cracking as he gives a quick check to make sure everyone's accounted for. He stands back upright, focusing back on the chainsaw.

Bloods-Bane comes through and takes a look around again, making mental notes of what is around and tries to duck off to the side and into some shadows, if there are any, for cover so that he can shift back into human form... Of course, when the chainsaw rips through the air he ducks out of instinct and turns towards the sound.

It comes from the street just off the alley, though not more than a hundred feet distant.

Snaps-Leashes follows suit, much as she has been doing most of the night. Following is her forte, and she's got three people whom she is willing to let be the leaders here. Her human skin envelopes her once more and she sticks close to the others, her voice low. "Which side of things are we on?"

Dagger's-Edge likewise, makes his shift back to his birthform, but reluctantly so. "Does it matter? Just keep an eye out for danger," he tells Joey, not so much in reprimand but just as a statement of what to do. He steps out of the way, head turned towards the sound where he could best estimate it coming from, and tries to make out whether it belongs or not.

Dillen shoves his hands down and into his pockets, and nods his head towards the sound. "Let's go see what's up? Who knows. Could just be someone chopping down a dead tree. But who knows." he looks to Lucas. "What do you think?" He then looks to Joey. "looks like our side... But James told me once about places. Some look just like ours." He gives her a confident smile.

"No way to tell exactly where we are." Lucas says in answer to Joey and just as a general announcement. "So until we're absolutly sure, assume this is the normal world. Stick together. We have no idea where we've been led." This said, the Alpha steps towards the end of the alley, following the sounds of the saw.

Snaps-Leashes lets out a soft grunt of acknowledgement and starts to following after the group again. She watches the sidelines as much as she watches where she is going, looking for any clues that will tell her where she is, and what side of the Gauntlet they are on.

As they move out of the alley, past a thick hedge of throttled plants, they see the source of the juvenile guffawing they'd hear earlier, and the roar of the chainsaw too. Two kids, their ages hard to place at this distance but wearing ugly baggy clothes that make them look stunted and dwarflike, lean against a van not far off. Two, from the sound of it, more are in the yard just next to it. The chainsaw makes a plaintive strangled whine as it cuts into wood: a tree is definitely being cut down but it doesn't look to be dead. The kids laugh as they do it, laugh and crow. One leaning against the van tips a bottle back to his lips, and none of them seem to notice the four emerging from their alley.

Dillen checks up and in the tree, taking a look at why they would be cutting down a completely good tree. He sees nothing up there and then looks back to the guys with the saw. His eyes check out everything around the guys, trying to find a reason for it at all.

Kenneth bites back a growl, as the scene he sees opening up reminds him of something else. Yet, the philodox clucks his tongue like a condescending parent. Or maybe a parent who has a history of child abuse.

Joey comes up to stand beside Dillen, eyeing the scene in front of them. A hand comes up to scratch at her head and she just waits for the plan.

Lucas rolls back his shoulders and scowls faintly at the group. Then, in typical fashion, the Ahroun steps forward to the group. "Bit of turf remodeling, gentlemen? Don't think urban renewal will like that much."

Dillen gives a chuckle and comes up next to Lucas. "Yeah. What did that tree ever do to you?" He follows up behind Lucas and folds his arms across his chest. "Not much of a battle. You have the chainsaw." He points a finger to the rarring object.

Kenneth says nothing, but rather sizes up the opposition, and their positions with a grim mask.

The boys by the van turn towards Lucas as he approaches. One, the one drinking, seems slightly unnerved as the four Garou approach; he quirks his jaw up at them but can't manage much more of a greeting than a nervous thrusting of it. The other, a boy about 18 with an ugly, unforgiving cast to his face and a toque drawn down almost over his eyes, steps out into the sidewalk. He too holds a bottle but it's smaller and seems to be mostly full, it hangs down by his side like it's as heavy as the world itself, he even slouches slightly to complete the illusion. "Urban rewhatever can suck my cock," he tells them, his voice a low slur that's almost unintelligible, though it doesn't seem to be nervousness that's causing the quiet. "Boys skaddle, we're not doin' nothin'."
The other two, in the yard and doing the actual deed, barely even seem to notice.

Lucas curls back his lips in a smile that shows off perhaps a few too much tooth than a normal human might. "Ruining public property is nothing? Hm. Afraid I'm gonna have to ask you boys to stop." The Ahroun says as he steps forward to the one wearing the knit cap, seemingly not about to give a care for personal space either. "You see, we're from the Greenpeace Scout troop out to earn our merit badges and we can't sit here and watch you harm an innocent tree."

Dillen comes right up in beside Lucas and stares at the two that are still cutting. "Don't make us call out the monkeys to take you all down." He grins, looking as confident as he can in his abilities.

Kenneth's black gaze travels down the tree, to the chainsaw, to the one holding the chainsaw. "Well, you're cuttin' the tree the wrong way if you're gonna fuck it. Axwounds go up and down, not left and right."

"Vin," the boy in the cap calls to the other who seems to be rather wracked by drink and curse. "Phone." The boy seems unable to respond to much of anything beyond direct commands, he darts eyes to the four Garou, even Joey, while leaning against his van like the ground's going to give out underneath him, and it's the only thing that'll save him from the pit. Still he manages to take out a small, cheap cell phone, which he tosses to the boy with the toque who in turn passes it to Dillen with a sneer. "Fuck you," he tells Lucas squarely, "fuck Greenpeace, fuck all of you shrimpdicked pussies. Just a tree, 'tard. Shit off or throwdown. Kids think your greenpeace, we're a fuckin' nuke. Protest that."

The kids by the tree have finally pulled their attention away. The thing still runs but without the added force of the boy holding it, it doesn't go very far, it just hangs in the tree halfway through. He stares at the four with uncertain eyes. The other one in the yard seems more curious than anything else; he's dug a pair of perfectly polished glasses out of a battered, dirty jean pocket to take a better look.

Kenneth spares a brief look back at Lucas. A look that says this should be over... rather quickly.

Lucas chuckles lowly as he steps to within an arm's reach of the toque-d boy, staring eye to eye. "Why, feel like a fight? Bet I can get to that chainsaw before you can. Wanna know what it feels like to get your body ripped apart by a fast moving, dull, serrated blade? Got until the count of five to call off your lackeys before we have a little race." A pause, then he says. "One."

Dillen takes the phone and takes a quick flip through the phone to see if there are any numbers and acts like he dials one of them. He says, "Yeah. Hey. How's it goin?" He looks to the kid with the toque. "Oh yeah? Really? Ya don't say." As he keeps looking to each of the guys. He gets a big grin on his face and steps a little closer to the "leader" and gives a large "Oh my God. It's the monkeys. They are fucking your mother and they want me to come over and finish her off. Then the phone flys through the air and hopefully connects with the side of the Togue's head, not waiting for the count to finish.

To Five? Damn, Lucas is too giving. Kenneth narrows his gaze with the count, then as Dillen pulls out the stops, the halfmoon makes his move as well. He circles about, intent on getting the boy with the chainsaw first.

Joey rolls her eyes and watches as the boys scatter. For all purposes, she looks as if she is going to stay out of this one, though her posture shows a readiness for defense, or possibly more if needed.

At Lucas' threat the boy in the toque raises his hand to the one holding the chainsaw, but no sound comes out, no command is given. He turns from what he's doing to eye Dillen with complete disregard: it is not, after all, his phone, and he doesn't respond to the taunts. The kid with the bottle does, there's a plea in his eyes as he stares at the Galliard, like he may be ruining his very life. When the punch comes toque boy is not unprepared for it, he takes a quick hop back and lifts his fists, only slightly off-balanced by the quick dodge. The curious one, he moves to intercept Kenneth's path towards the boy with the chainsaw, adjusting his glasses as he sidesteps. The boy with the saw digs it from the tree and he holds it at the ready, but he doesn't seem too eager to use it, eyeing the entire thing with a wary expression.

Looking briefly dissapointed as Dillen ruins his fun, Lucas surges forward and sends the flat of his palm right for Toque's chin to send him flat onto his ass with the entire force of his arm and back put into the blow. The Ahroun is moving rather easily, practiced, like street fighting is something he's particularly familiar with.

Kenneth pulls up, interrupted in his path to sawboy by the one with glasses. He holds out a hand, tilts it palm up and gestures. "Bring it."

Dillen keeps his gaze on bottle boy since Lucas is on the toque, grinning, a fire alight in his eyes. "I will fuck you up. Just throw that one punch asshole." He takes a stance, learned from months with James and Tai Chi practice. "Come on. Let's dance." He gives a laugh that only the wicked witch of the west would love.

Joey just rolls her eyes again, mumbling quietly under her breath. "Bring it? Let's Dance? Seriously way too much time at the movies." She meanders calmly and quietly towards the van, aiming to end up on the side of it that is opposite the action.

The intoxicated boy with the bottle doesn't hesitate, not for a second, he just runs, smashing his hip into the van as he circles it, losing and finding purchase against the street. He seems to be making for the driver-side door quick as he can, which puts him more or less in line with where Joey's heading, though they won't necessarily bump heads. The boy with the toque kicks viciously out as Lucas lunges at him: he takes a brutal hit to the jar that snaps his chin back and backs him up a few steps, rubbing at the wound, though he returns a smashing kick to Lucas' stomach, hopefully the Ahroun hasn't eaten too much today. The boy with the saw doesn't much look like he wants to bring it, as Kenneth suggests. He steps nervously forward with the chainsaw held out straight ahead, providing a monotonous roaring overtone to the conversation. He aims at Kenneth but his intent seems to be more to pull him away from Glasses than to impale the Philodox. The kid with the glasses, meanwhile, has adopted a ludicrous kung-fu-esque stance he must have seen on television somewhere, one leg raised, his hands hanging up like lanterns.

Joey lets out a bothered grumble as the fighting continues, glancing over towards the group. She spots the saw-kid and shakes her head, running through a scenario of ugly regret. Deciding then that the saw need to be dropped before someone, /any/ someone, accidentally gets seriously maimed, she makes her move. Her attention is focused on the young saw wielding boy as she hovers near the van, still moving towards it.

Lucas looses his air briefly but not much else. Growling, he's charging the toque boy soon as he can suck in a breath and sends a sharp jab with his right for the teen's nose with a vicious left hook for his temple - aiming to take the boy down as fast as he can.
Long distance to Jihgfed: Kenneth is going to spend 1 Rage for an extra action.

Dillen heads for the door of the car, not intent on hitting bottle boy himself but kicking the door as it opens to possibly slap into the guy and take him down, waiting for a good moment when bottle boy's head is right in the right place.

Kenneth keeps the saw in mind. It is a Bothersome noise indeed. And as the sawboy's wielding of the chainsaw is much slower than say, a Raging crinos' clawswipe, the halfmoon dodges away from the main serrated chain, focuses his energy into a nice open palm. That palm nearly blurs faster as the Philodox also surges out to attack, aimed straight for the smack dab middle of Glasses' face.

The drunken boy heading towards the van door stops when he sees Dillen hovering by it. He freezes for a long second before he simply turns and runs, off down the street, wobbling and snapping off a car's side mirror as he hurries along. Glasses tries some fancy dodge-and-strike combination, sliding back while he kicks out: his foot grazes Kenneth but does no serious damage and the Philodox' fist barrels in against the boy's face, shattering his glasses and driving little shards into the soft skin of his eyelid. He goes down, hard, yelling and scrambling back on four legs to find some sort of safety behind the guy with the chainsaw, who wields the thing less as a weapon and more as a means of defence, pointing it at whomever gets near but not striking out more than a foot. There's something odd about him though, he twitches unexpectedly, his neck snapping to the side to rub shoulder against ear, like he's gone completely mad, or he's got Turret's syndrome. The real contested fight is going on between Lucas and the boy with the toque: the latter recovers from his punch to deliver a vicious, spiteful roundhouse aimed right at Lucas' chin, which the Ahroun seems to all but ignore, his rage pushing him on and through to snap two fists at his head faster than any martial artist, crushing in on the boy's warmly-wrapped head like a quick vice.

Dillen decides that his guy is no longer a threat and comes around to help out Lucas. He hopes to come up behind Toque boy and kick him in the back of his knees, taking him down to give Lucas the advantage. If Lucas needs any help. Otherwise, he'd head for the chainsaw guy.

"Geezus guys, teach 'em a lesson eh? Not cripple them!" The feminine call rings out from Joey as she continues to watch the pack of hotheads get into the groove of the brawl, hopefully reminding them to keep things in check. "Fuck, if hurting a tree is bad, imagine what really fucking up a bunch of kids is." She keeps an eye on the chainsaw kid too, growing a little impatient as things continue to happen.

Kenneth turns upon the chainsaw kid as Glasses retreats, hand moving to wipe off palm on his shirt. Apparently there is little mercy in the philodox's steady gaze towards the spastic saw-wielder. He takes a few steps forward, challenging the boy.

Lucas aims one last good shove to Toque's chest to topple him and says harshly, "Get the fuck out of here while you can still run." He says it in a rough growl, his hand balled up in a tight, white-knuckled fist as the Rage drums in his ears.

12/15/2004

Requiem's TQ Room(#1877RJ)
Contents:
Dillen
Jihgfed
Lucas

Which makes it three on one: the kid with the glasses looks to be half-blind and he cowers behind the guy with the chainsaw. The drunk has fled, and the boy with the toque has his arms curled up around his head, one knee on the floor, trying desperately to shield himself from any further beatings. The only one still standing is the boy with the chainsaw, who's now wiping his face violently against his shoulder like he's gone mildly mad. "Stay away," he demands of the proto-pack, his eyes darting from one to the other, looking like he's on the verge of going bugnuts and either breaking down in a crying heap or letting loose on them all with the chainsaw. "Go the fuck away!"

Dillen holds up his hands and looks at the guy. "Put the thing down and we will go away." He says very matter of factly. "Don't want to hurt you. But we will if we have to." Dillen gives a slight grin, "Or I can call the monkeys again."

Lucas leers over the cowering boy with the toque with an ominous growl. "I told you to call them off." He says in a warning voice, pacing around behind him and standing at the boy's back like an executioner with an axe.

Kenneth, closest to the chainsaw wielding boy, lifts his arm up across his chest. "Something Bothering you, now that you're facing someone that can fight back?" he growls at the twitchy boy, taking a couple of steps forward, black eyes as cold as a shark's.

Joey watches the boy with the chainsaw now, waiting to see if he is going to cave in to the crawlies.

Lucas' prey keeps turning to face him, unable to manage any coherent offensive, but still resisting as best he can: he even spits out along with a faint stream of blood, "Fuck you." He tries to back up, slowly, to stumble back down the sidewalk, but Lucas is always there. Something is definitely bothering the boy with the chainsaw, but it doesn't seem that Kenneth or Dillen is it, at least not mainly. He keeps twitching and scratching himself against his collar, but he doesn't seem about to relent. "You guys go away," he tells them plainly, as he tries to circle around into the street, ex-Glasses meekly following, always keeping to Chainsaw's back.

Joey then calls out to the boy with the chainsaw. "Something there... on your collar. Big. Roach maybe?" She remains near the car, otherwise calm.

Dillen shakes his head and shoves his hands down and into his pockets. He looks at the others and then chuckles. "Did we just defend... A tree?" He clicks his tongue against his teeth and walks over to look at the wound on the tree. "Anybody got any duct tape?" He keeps the guy in the corner of his eye, not really trying to look threatening now, but aware of what is happening.

Lucas snorts at the boy who still defies him. "Now you're not being brave, you're being stupid. You're beat. Suck it up and get out of here while you still have some dignity." He says with a distasteful frown.

Kenneth stops his approach for a second. "One tree is enough," he growls out, and then breaks off to prowl off to chainsaw's side, in essence splitting the prey's attentions to multiple angles.

The boy with the chainsaw's eyes and attention dart around as he's surrounded, his path cut off. He moves again, trying to cut out by the opposite side of the yard, the kid with the thick, now broken glasses tucked him. The kid with the Toque keeps his hands up, in case Lucas' fists should fly again towards his head. He doesn't look defiant, not really, he looks more like someone who's lost for the first time in his life and doesn't know what to do now: he spits another fierce "Fuck you!" and tries to stumble his way back to the van.

Lucas seems to have lost all interest in Toque now that he's been downed and just shakes his head and walks away from him to join the rest of his proto-pack. Let him run to the van, he made his point.

Dillen raises a brow at the chainsaw kid. "Dude. Take it easy. You stopped on the tree. S'all good now." He backs off as well. "Just leave the saw." He points to the ground. "And you can leave."

Kenneth fans out, moving to cross paths with Chainsaw Kid and cut him off from escaping off the to the opposite end of the yard. The Halfmoon sends a glare towards Dillen, then looks back to Chainsaw. He doesn't seem to be satisfied with Dillen's proposal of letting the kid go away unharmed.

Joey looks over, "He's done... leave him be, he ain't gonna do nothing else, he's just too scared to drop his weapon. What's the point of going off on him now?"

"That's exactly why idiots like these keep comin' up," Kenneth snaps at Joey, not taking his eyes from the Chainsaw. "We let 'im go and he'll do it again. It's one fuckin' tree, sure. But one fuckin' tree Too Many. He's not gettin' away without learning a lesson in how much pain he's causing."

The kid with the toque gets quickly into the van, scrambling to close the door, feet finding the pedals, hands the wheel. Tires squeal against ashphalt. The kid with the chainsaw seems momentarily confused by the debate over his fate, but much of it doesn't make it over the high whirr of the whipping sawblades, so that he's left only with faces. His decision, though, is cut off, by the deeper sound of wheels thumping against the curb of the sidewalk. The dark van drives straight up onto the sidewalk, right into the lawn, kicking up dirt as it goes. It seems to be aiming the spot next to the two faux-lumberjacks, attempting a quick and dirty rescue.

Dillen looks to Kenneth and growls some. "Dude. Work together, not apart. No reason for that." He looks back to see the van vaulting off and to the other guy. "Fuck it, let him go. They stopped and will look over their shoulder next time."

Lucas shifts his eyes to his tribemate sternly and then fixes them on the boy with the chainsaw as tires squeal in the background. "Let them run. If we hear of anyone hacking down trees, we'll know who it is and pay them a visit." Then he moves away so the van can reclaim its passengers.

Joey juggles herself back a few paces as the van moves away from her, her hands falling to her side as she watches everything that goes on. Once Lucas gives the call, she moves to fall in beside him and go with his decision, which is, thankfully, of the same opinion as hers.

Kenneth looks to Lucas as the ahroun speaks. Reluctantly he steps back, opening the way for the two to get in the escape vehicle. The halfmoon folds his arms over his chest afterwards, glaring daggers at the vehicle as if wanting it to burst into flames.

The van's wheels dig into the grass as it comes to a jerky stop. As chainsaw kid turns around to make sure nobody's trying to get them, Glasses wastes no time in hurrying to the side door and wrenching it open. They both spill in and the van makes its screeching departure, backing into the street and hurling itself down the road. Not a word more is spoken by the lumberjacks, all that's left is the barking of a small distant dog that couldn't be heard before above the whining of the chainsaw, the wounded tree, and the near-full moon above.

Waiting until the van has peeled out of sight, Kenneth turns his attentions back to his packmates first. "Great. We saved a tree. Whoop-dee-doo," he deadpans. But, the philodox glances back to the tree the travels up its branches with his eyes, perhaps searching for the Lune from earlier.

Dillen shakes his head, "Nothing up there." as he looks up into the tree. "Lucas, think we should get back to finding that thing we saw earlier?" He starts to walk back to where they came in. "Had to have gone somewhere, maybe where that howl came from."

"A tree that might teach you something someday, if you ask it nice." Remarks the Ahroun as he regards Kenneth and then the tree as he nods. "Might be. Didn't catch where it might have went, did you Joey?"

The tree's a rather poor sight: twenty-five feet tall and twisted, its branches hang from it like a flag on a calm day, limp and dull, dusty green. The gash at its bottom doesn't do much for its appearance, either. It's almost a Christmas tree, at least it looks like it's almost an evergreen, though if it is it's a Christmas tree even Charlie Brown couldn't manage to love.

Joey shakes her head, "Saving one tree is noble." She comments as she moves closer to expect it. "Could be home to a lot of things." She shrugs as she runs a hand over the gash, feeling genuinely regretful over it. "We should get some of that tree sealant stuff, so it's wound is protected. Heh."

Dillen looks back to Joey and steps over to her. "Think it would do any good?" He reaches up and pulls on one of the branches. "How do you heal a tree?" He runs a hand over it, feeling the gash with his fingers and looks up to Joey. "We could do that tomorrow... If you want." He says to her.

Kenneth meanders over eventually, looking at the gash. "We still haven't figured out if this is the Shadow or not," he mentions. Then, slowly he too puts a hand on the bark and seems to be staring at it in thought.

Lucas goes to stand with the rest of the pack. "We have no idea where we are." He reinforces Kenneth's words. "It looks like it could use more than just sealant. It looks like it's ready to die, before being hacked into."

Kenneth stares at the tree for a bit longer, and then retracts his hand. "We should probably head back to that alley and see about getting back on the flipside," he puts in afterwards. "If this tree's about to go, then it's gonna go."

Joey lifts her shoulders, "Alright, whatever the plan is." She gives Dillen a nod, though it looks as if she's not wholly convinced that his offer is something that could happen.

Dillen takes in a deep breath and pushes his hand against the wound, looking as if he is really concentrating at it. He's not entirely sure as to what he is doing, but the feeling is that he wants to try and push some of his power into the tree if he can. Something he heard about in a story his grandmother once told him.

Lucas doesn't give any commands or suggestions just yet, he's watching Dillen with narrowed, curious eyes.

Kenneth looks back to Dillen, then slowly shakes his head and waits. His eyes stray to the alleyway from whence they came, and the surrounding environs. It's almost as if he expects something to pop out at them, just to shake things up.

Dillen shakes his head and curses under his breath. "Dudes. We aren't in the shadow." As nothing happens. "We need to get back... Now. Can't find what we need here..." He gives a great big sigh and looks to Lucas.

Lucas frowns slightly and nods his head. "Let's find a way out, then. Back to the alley. No one has a mirror, do they?" He mutters as he heads for the alley.

Kenneth mutters a short "Coulda told you that" under his breath before he rakes a hand through his hair and starts his way back towards the alley as per the ahroun's orders.

Dillen runs his hands through his hair and sighs as he thinks. "Wait. There were some bottles and stuff where we came in. Maybe? If the light hits it?" Dillen is already heading back to where they popped into the area. "C'mon."

Joey follows after the others, silent as the grave.

Lucas heds back into the alley and tells them all to start looking for something of potential use. "...what we could use is an old compact or someone's broken mirror." He says as he starts snooping around for any likely candidate.

The alley's a filthy place, but there aren't many large bits of trash around. There're the shattered wine bottles Dillen had promised, and a great, ancient looking dumpster, that looks like it's been around for longer than most of the houses in the neighbourhood, its green paint all caked off, and its metal rotted out on the bottom.

Dillen turns and heads for the Dumpster as soon as he sees it. "Damn. Olga would be proud." As he growls and then jumps up and tries to pull himself into it to find something that could work.

Joey laughs brightly, "Hell, I'm proud. Keep that up and Mama Rat is gonna find us for sure." She folds her arms over her chest and just watches, content to let the Get find his paws dirty.

"Figures," Lucas mutters as he picks up one of the bottles to test it in the light. "No stripped car when you need one. No one ever takes the mirrors." He gives the Get a quirked expression. "You're staying downwind the rest of the trip!"

Kenneth can't help but curl his lip and try not to breathe in the filth and rotting smells. No, he's not getting in that dumpster. Not when there's a Gnawer with them, and a Get who doesn't mind smelling like one. He instead stalks further into the alley, eyes scanning this way and that for anything that might serve as a highly reflective surface. "Too late now to mention, but one of us should have torn off a rearview mirror from that van."

Shoes go crunch and snap as soon as they hit the layer of trash that almost serves as a floor. Dillen has landed on a large standing mirror, snapped roughly in two, though how or why is a mystery. It's seems to be a happy, bizarre coincidence that their needs are so properly met, though - until one notices that this frame and the mirror they'd used to get here are the same, except for the dirt and filth and ugly crack that cakes to this one. The bottles seem to provide something that's almost a reflection, a blurry sort of pseudo-image at least - perhaps if they were brought further into the light it'd do some good.

"Aw fuck." Dillen says as it snaps below his feet. He dives in and does his best to free it from the dumpster. "Guys. It's the one we came in on. Get over her and help me." He hurredly tries to clean it off and get it up so they can get some light in it, trying to keep it in as big a piece as possible.

Lucas discards the bottle and heads over to assist Dillen, though he doesn't go diving over the edge to help haul it out. Instead, he's waiting to help bring it safely to the ground.

Kenneth looks up, lips drawn tight, and then heads back over to the others. He hangs around the edge of the dumpster beside Lucas. Though unsettled by these circumstances, the halfmoon makes no comment and waits for the mirror to be passed out to the others.

Joey continues to watch with amusement, but she at least climbs up to straddle the side and help Dillen get the mirror out. "Careful, it'll be sharp."

Dillen pushes up and out, climbing out after the mirror. He hocks up a good amount of spit and flies it into the air towards the pavement. He shakes his body violently, trying to shake off the smell as much as possible. He spits again, getting the taste from his mouth. "There..." As he turns and looks back to the others. "A mirror."

It is indeed a mirror, slightly busted up and grungy though it may be. There's not really anything interesting about it beyond the fact that it comes with its own stand.
Lucas holds one corner of the mirror, his nose wrinkles at the horrid smell. "Nngh... let's prop this up and get the hell out of Dodge. It stinks."

Kenneth would avidly agree. To the point that he looks to his shirt, and sacrifices his right hand and rubs away some of the dirty and grime on the mirror in order to clear off a spot of it. Soon as that is done, he's staring into his own grimed reflection, intending to step sideways.

Dillen lines up with the clean part of the mirror as well. "Sure hope this works like a car wash." He stares into the mirror as well, trying his best to make it into the Umbral layer.

It's only with diffulty that the pack is able to push through and force the world to melt away under their feet. The new one they move into is not much different than the one they had left, with its shells of houses and its shining dumpster, and the vast grey sky in which Luna sits like a giant, vaguely amused eye. The lune which had crashed against the mirror is gone, but the mirror itself is gone too: the pack finds itself in the alley. There's a rustling in the dumpster, presumably a raccoon and a rat spirit are still in there, busily at work. The dog though has gone, as has the ominous dark cloud which had hung in the air high above the city and made the streets bright with lightning.

Joey looks around and gives a little sniff, not really cringing at the smell. "Well then." She gives a soft heh, "And I was stressing about this?"

Lucas is the last to cross through, guarding the pack's back and making sure they all get through. "I don't think we're done yet." He says in regards to Joey's words as he passes a glance towards the dumpster and then towards the rest of the city.

Dillen comes out and stands for a moment, regaining his bearings. He takes in a deep breath and then looks at Joey. "Like you did anything but stand there." He gives her a wink, clearly kidding. "So what now? Maybe we should give a shout out?" He looks around and cups his hands to his mouth. "Anyone out there?" He only slightly raises his voice, looking down the streets. "Gonna shift and get a smell." He does so, melting into lupus.

Kenneth steps through, and somehow seems a lot more comforted to at least know which realm he's in. Looking behind him to the others, he nods once at Lucas' observation. The Philodox casts out a short distance to shift up, assuming the warform perhaps too eagerly.

A soft ha ha escapes from Joey, and she lifts a shoulder up in defense of her actions. "Wish we knew what we're looking for. She glances around, noting where things are and the sounds that can be heard. "Should look for another mirror, maybe they're set up to point us to the spots they want us to take care of."

There's a hearty thump of flesh against metal when Dillen calls out, like someone's stood too quickly and banged his head against a low ceiling. A large rat spirit, big as a cat, its ragged fur coat speckled through with pockmarks and healed-over wounds, its teeth small and sharp as chisels, pokes its head out of the dumpster. It squeaks and spits, like it's trying to say something to the pack, but none of them know the strange language in which it's said. It only speaks for a couple seconds though, before it looks up and with a small squeak of fear, launches itself back into the safety of its dumpster. There up on the roof is a massive grey wolf, its fur dusted with dried blood like its just bathed in the stuff. Its eyes glow orange and there's a bloodthirstiness in them that's hard to describe, though it stays very still as it stares down at the pack, waiting for their eyes and attention to travel up to it, and then waiting longer still.

Lucas looks briefly skyward with knitted brows. "There was a howl before, I remember it as I was crossing over." No sooner does he finish saying it then the commotion starts up. The rat is noted as it flees back into its dumpster and then he looks up to the source with a faint understanding noise.

Joey looks after the rat as if it had a special place with her, and perhaps because it does. She turns to follow it's gaze, her own eyes gaping wide open and her mouth dropping. "Don't think that one is one of ours guys..."

Dagger's-Edge twitches his ears as the Get calls out, then with the rat spirit squeaking unintelligably, the philodox looks to Lucas, following the ahroun's eyes upwards. The halfmoon remains silent, but staring upwards. His lip curls back in an imitation of a smile, baring the tips of his teeth.

Bloods-Bane swallows hard and looks up at the wolf. He stays that way for a moment longer before he lifts his head into the air and lets out a deep howl to the moon. When his gaze comes back down, he gives a bow of his head and then back up.

Joey looks over to Dillen as the Get greets the wolf with a howl, "What? You wanna go get friendly with him or something? Are you nuts?" She sidles a bit closer towards Lucas now, who seems more sane at this point.

The wolf answers Joey's assertion with what could almost be called a smirk if it weren't so obviously a snarl. It speaks to them then, not in the speech of spirits but in the Mother Tongue, the warrior's tongue, and its voice rings out like the heavy smash of a hammer against an anvil. ~I am Bloodpelt,~ he tells them bluntly. ~Fenris has seen you todayand knows that if you follow him and partake of his strength, you could be great warriors. I offer to lead you,~ he tells the group, before staring straight at Joey, levelling his hungry eyes on her like he would very much like to simply lunge down and devour her whole, despite the stillness of his posture, ~if you remove the rat from your midst. She is weak and a coward and she disgraces you.~ He looks at Dillen then, straight in the face, as if challenging the boy to disagree, before his fierce eyes travel over to Lucas, of whom he demands, quite plainly, ~Decide.~

It is quite clear that Joey does not like the look she gets, and when the declaration is dropped, she staggers almost visibly as if her breath were being pulled from her lungs. It takes a moment for her to find her head, and when she does, she just stands up tall and waits. Her eyes stare out straight in front of her, pausing to look at no one, and nothing else.

Dillen bulks up to the warform and looks to the spirit. ~Bloodpelt, if I may speak.~ He lowers his head and looks to Lucas. ~Alpha. If I may speak as well.~

Dagger's-Edge stares up at Bloodpelt silent as a boulder, but at the wolf's request, he growls out unsettled. The halfmoon looks to Joey with ears flattened back, and then looks to Lucas. There seems to be something the halfmoon wants to say as well, but it is for the ahroun alone.

Lucas faces the spirit and rises up into the form of war, all bristling black fur, striking blue eyes, and fine white teeth. ~I would not have invited her among us if I did not believe she can be a warrior, despite being a new moon child of Rat. If she feels she can stand beside us in battle then I will not drive her away. I am Alpha, but this is a choice for the pack as well.~ And then he looks to both Dillen and Kenneth with a nod of his muzzle.

Bloodpelt listens to Lucas but makes no display of understanding. His answer to Dillen is characteristically blunt: ~Speak.~

Dillen looks to the spirit and pulls himself up, "I am Bane-of-the-Bloodsuckers, Skald of the Get of Fenris and I say to you that Snaps-Leashes is no coward. She fought to free a whole ring of Gaia's creatures... Alone and returned from her rite as a Cliath. I admit that she has less than a war nature than the rest of us... But when it comes to needing someone at my back, I will take any one of my pack. They are worthy of you. We are worthy and will not disappoint if we were accepted.~ Dillen bows his head for a moment before looking up to the spirit.

Bloodpelt has listened to Dillen's speech, but his posture shows little but distaste for it. ~I have heard you and I am unmoved, Skald,~ he tells him. ~If you like you can try to convince me with claws and then I will have at least gotten a good fight for my time here. If you will not it will have been a total waste.~

Dagger's-Edge snorts aloud, hackles standing up as he stamps a heavy paw onto the ground and glares over his would-be packmates. He growls out, focusing on Joey now. ~If you are anything of a Gaia warrior, Snaps-Leashes, you will take offense to that Fenris spirit servant's growlings and challenge him to prove yourself worthy.~ He turns his eyes back up to the Fenris. ~And if she does not, then This Pack will beat it into your pelt and bloody you further, Bloodpelt.~

Dillen takes in a deep breath and nods. ~We shall fight.~ He looks straight at Bloodpelt and opens his mouth in a growling roar. ~She is in my pack and I will fight for the pack. Will be an honor to meet your wrath.~ He stomps at the ground, looking back to Joey as if to say, 'Do it.'

Joey takes a deep breath, glancing at the others. There is a real sense of urgency about the situation and it doesn't fall unnoticed by the Ragabash. After a moment, she lets out a sigh, waving a hand as she shifts up into Crinos so that she can respectfully answer in Mothers Tongue. ~He is right. I do not have the same skill for bloodying my claws as the rest of you. You seek to be a pack of warriors, a military unit designed to cleanse your territory of the wyrm.~ She pauses briefly. ~The most legendary warriors use no scouts. They have no need for information to be gathered. It is better to run fiercly into whatever may lie ahead, hungry for the glory it will grant you, and without thought or plan of action. Our numbers need to be thinned I am sure, and even the greatest of warriors should not be given the advantage of pre-obtained knowledge of the enemy. If they cannot defeat losing odds to begin with, then we should make sure the odds grow more dim for the future.~ It is then she lifts her nose to look at Bloodpelt, head canting off to the side in a smirking gesture.

~/An honor/?!~ Spits out the Ahroun like the Galliard's words left a foul taste in his mouth, his eyes fixing on the spirit wolf's, blazing with Rage. ~There is no honor in fighting one who flings insults from rooftops.~ His ire up, he neglects to notice the subtly of the Ragabash as he steps forward with bared teeth as wickedly curved talons beckon to the spirit. ~I am Thunder's Forge, chosen son of the Storm itself, and I say come down here, servent of Fenris, and meet my claws if you doubt our honor as warriors.~

If it were possible for the towering red wolf to smile, he would, but all that comes out is a baring of teeth and a frighteningly happy snarl. He doesn't waste any more time with speeches, he's barely a blur as he launches himself from the rooftop with a heavy glee, aiming right at the one he challenged, his massive front paws aimed down straight at Snaps-Leashes.

Snaps-Leashes first instinct is to get out from underneath the line of descent. She leaps backwards in a rush, coiling back upon her haunches so that she can spring forth in a few choice directions once the snarling opponent has landed. Her eyes focus on his flight path, her ears twitching as her muscles all bunch and tense.

Sees the wolf-spirit leap down and checks himself as his muscles twitch for him to jump in. ~...this is her test...~ Thunder's-Forge growls lowly, for now holding back, but his posture and voice are vocal enough in saying: He's jumping in there if she needs the backup.

Dagger's-Edge bares his teeth right back at the Fenris spirit, but when it's obvious which target the huge wolf has chosen, he barks out a clear warning to Joey. ~Look out!~ He too, looks like he's just about to jump onto the spirit or in the spirit's way.

Bloods-Bane looks as if he could positively burst just standing there. He growls and spittle pours from his mouth, wanting in this fight. He glares at Lucas and then back to Joey and the wolf. He is so ready, all that needs to happen is for his alpha to move a muscle.

Bloodpelt looks a hair's breadth from pouncing, it's obvious he wants to. His paws seem to melt into the dirty alley ground for the impending pounce, his orange furious eyes bug out of his head. The growl he lets out is loud as a lion's roar, it fills the alley and rattles the walls, the rat in the dumpster peeks its little eyes out to watch but the raccoon spirit just flees as fast as it damn well can. It leans in until its hot nasty breath fogs up the Ragabash's eyes, and it seems to almost drink in her fear through his nostrils, daring her to fight back.

Snaps-Leashes, for all purposes, is pretty much pinned in place by the hulking wolf and his snarling breath. She remains there, coiled up and ready, but without intiating any movement yet. It takes all her willpower and shoveled up courage to lift her nose up to the other, and in doing so, bumping her snout to the underside of his chin in such a way that it could be taken as a 'get your breath off my face buddy' gesture. Now, if only her bladder will hold for her.

Lucas utters a low, ominous growl like the distant rumble of thunder, his claws bared as he watches the fight as close as a nerd at as a chess tournament. The Crinos Ahroun looms in, ready to lunge, but still waiting.

Dagger's-Edge looms from the shadows in the alley, watching both fighters with a schooled silence.

Bloods-Bane moves in closer, ready and willing to fight.

Bloodpelt reaches slowly out towards Snaps-Leashes' face, growl reverberating against the walls. When she doesn't flinch, doesn't resist, he moves closer and closer, and his jaws go wider and his lips tighter and further away, stretching out further than any wolf's should and making his teeth longer than any wolf's should be. The spirit is big for a Hispo and grotesuely huge for a normal wolf, now that its close enough the dried blood of its pelt can be seen to radiate off it like a constant cloud. It begins to obscure him, the longer he stands still, but he doesn't stand still long, for as soon as his jaws tick closed against Snaps-Leashe's skull he tenses and flexes and whips his head and with a strength far surpassing any Garou at the sept's, he whips the Ragabash right at Lucas just as easily as if she were a rag doll. It spits and snorts in the half second after as if even that small touch of the Gnawer were disgusting, and then with a definite need for further blood it turns in upon itself quick and wicked as a snake and lashes out towards Dillen, levelling at him a challenging snarl that seems to take in the whole world as well.

That was the tick. Bloods-Bane howls up and into the air and launches himself at the wolf, all claws and teeth ripping and clawing as much as possible. His jaw goes right for the throat, wanting to latch on and rip.

Lucas watches the Ragabash go up and come down and he's ready to catch her, mindful of his claws, of course. Thankfully, the desire to go over and tear the spirit to pieces doesn't overcome his instinctive need to protect his packmate, even if they're not official, yet.

Dagger's-Edge tenses when the Fenris' jaws close over the ragabash's head, as he expects the worst. When it only hurls Joey away, and then turns to face Dillen, the Shadow Lord 'dox launches forth with aim for the soft belly of the wolf. Just like a Shadow Lord to attack when the opponent's distracted.

Snaps-Leashes is too quickly grabbed and thrown to even put up a fight at that point. Her landing however, in the grasp of her would be Alpha, is applauded with a fierce growl. It of course is not aimed at her furry Hero, but at the opponent who sent her there. She scrambles, dizzied and stupored for a moment, then gets onto her feet. Her lips are peeled into a snarl as she watches the redpelted wolf brawl with her packmates. Maintaining a more hispo like form of a charge even while in her warform, the Ragabash charges towards the back end of the wolf they converge upon.

The great beast's paws seem to sink right into the ground as it moves, its purchase is absolute and its speed is mad. It seems to sink right into Dillen, too, as he smashes into the Galliard, his teeth dig into his throat past his skin: there's no blood, just a cracking and twisting of muscle and bone. The creature doesn't stop, it keeps on running, straight towards the alley wall, which it thrusts Dillen against with a viciousness it obviously delights in. Dillen's claws slice through its pelt and scatter dried blood like dust, but it barely seems to feel it, just as Dillen seems to be oblivious to whatever damage its done to him. Kenneth is left slightly behind, outpaced by the speeding spirit-wolf, but he closes in fast from the back.

Thunder's Forge flares out his fur from nose to tail and snarls fiercly as he locks his gaze on the Fenris-wolf, his eyes taking on a predatory, piercing nature as he seeks out the weakness of the spirit as he approaches the battle.

Dagger's-Edge snarls aloud with a viciousness that wishes to rival the Fenris, and harnessing his Rage he charges in a blur towards the spirit to attack.

Dillen doesn't feel anything. He keeps clawing and ripping as much as he possibly can, even if his body is broken and battered. He feels no pain at this moment and that may be a bad thing.

Bloodpelt tears his head back and forth as Dillen batters him about with his claws, seemingly unnoticed. The spirit snaps its great head back with a definite sense of finality, leaving Dillen slumped against the wall with wide unseeing eyes and a neck that hangs at an ugly angle and thick, clotting blood dribbling out the corner of his mouth, but no wound, no gash can be seen. He whips himself around just as Dagger's-Edge comes at him full of claws, catching the spirits side and spilling dusty dry powdered blood onto the alley floor. The spirit roars and snaps as it turns to meet this new foe jaws first, lunging out its massive teeth towards the Shadow Lord's belly.

Snaps-Leashes looks on in horror as she watches Dillen slump agaainst the wall. A fierce, rage filled snarl echoes deep in her throat as she charges, rage fueling her towards her target. While Daggers-Edge meets him head on, she comes from the back, hoping to leap in from behind and get a hold on the back of his neck. It's all or nothing for her now as she lets go of the fear, and lets her Gaia given rage guide her.

Dagger's-Edge strikes hard and as his claws meet flesh he nearly howls with elation. That bloodlusty joy is swept aside by concentration on his foe as the Fenris snaps Dillen's neck. The halfmoon has learned a thing or two though, when fighting a powerful enemy. Instead of attacking again, he first dodges from the fangs of the Fenris, whipping himself to the side to let the wolf spirit's jaws snap closed at air, and then he jumps back in and puts his effort into striking the wolf's throat.

Bloods-Bane goes limp and falls, a crumpled heap on the ground, motionless as he lies against the wall.

The last sane thought that runs through the Ahroun Lord's mind is the sense of his own immense failure as he sees the Get's neck creak to an unnatural angle. Edge would recognize the sound. It's like the full force of a tornado's wind and a hurricane's roar all built into one terrible sound that utters from Thunder's open jaws. Foam builds and rolls out of the corners of his mouth and spittle flies as several hundred pounds of pure, frenzied Garou surge for the Fenris-spirit and aim to drive ten razor-sharp talons into his skull. Heaven help anything that gets in his way.

Bloodpelt matches Dagger's-Edge blow for vicious blow, dodge for artful dodge, and then he adds a few little tricks besides just to make things fun. They trade a pair of missed shots and then as the Philodox' claws rake the spirit's ephemeral ribs, sending off a shower of iron-coloured flakes, Bloodpelt reaches down and rips aside a large section of his hamstring, and with a quick jerk of his head down he knocks down that leg and Dagger's-Edge feels a complete lack of strength run up the length of his thigh, and begins to topple. Bloodpelt's tail wags at that: despite the snap of Blood's-Bane's neck, despite the clotted blood that pours from his body like sand from an overturned pail, the Fenris spirit seems to be enjoying the hell out of itself. Even the claw Snaps-Leashes promptly directs right where the bottom of the tail meets flesh brings a throttled sound of excitement rather than pain; even when Thunder's-Forge comes crashing in and actually manages to almost unseat the beast, so that he tilts over on his well-anchored paws like a tree in a very strong wind, his expression is still one of glee, and he turns to meet the Ahroun in full fury, ignoring the thrash of claws and digging his teeth into his gut.

Dillen opens his eyes and looks to the group all on the spirit's body. He lies there, mouth open and trying to speak, unable to form words and having a hard time... Even when he starts to struggle to his feet. He gets a small bit up and then just falls back onto the ground, unable to move properly to fight. He does get one word out, "Requiem."

Thunder's Forge smells blood, even if it's no more than rusty powder, it seems enough to drive on his frenzy with even more force. The light of pure, mindless savagry burns in his eyes as he spreads his jaws to their fullest extent to try and latch onto the spirit's cranium, perhaps even trying to pop it like a squeezed grape. All the while his claws are going, tearing at whatever part of the Fenris-wolf they can find.

Dagger's-Edge feels his hamstring ripped out, and from that a bloodcurdling howl of pain is also ripped out from his throat as he crashes down hard. He doesn't attack again, instead concentrating on keeping himself in the game. The halfmoon calls upon the Gift which taught him to push down the pain, to get up and fight.

Dillen watches and grits his teeth. As the blood flows, he tries once again to rise up to his feet. No good, he goes down like a sack of jello.

Thunder's-Forge's jaws slip and snap at Bloodpelt's skull, ripping away at the skin that covers it but unable to find any means to make it crack. His claws do a better job of it, digging into and tearing away at the soft spots where limb meets body and neck meets chest. Bloodpelt though gets his own back and better, finally managing to tear what really should be a jagged hole in the Ahroun's stomach, but there's nothing there, just the feeling of having eaten a cuisinart and then had it turned on while it was in the process of being digested, his stomach torn to ribbons. Snaps-Leashes does her best to circle around the beast as she claws, getting between it and the downed and battered Blood's-Bane. She sends her claws into Bloodpelt's belly but doesn't seem to be wrecking too much damage: they're just not intent enough, she's not strong enough, they don't get far enough beneath the surface.

Bloodpelt is by this time not at peak form. Much of his strenght lies scattered across the alley's ground like a beautiful fresh red snowfall an inch thick, and his paws, finally, seem to be less than steady.

If his guts are dripping out through what was the region of his abdomen, the Ahroun fails to notice. He just keeps going like a broken, battered, but still wild Crinos-locomotive as he relentlessly gores at the spirit wolf with all he's got. Again his jaws have a go, this time for Bloodpelt's neck, the claws of both hands still tearing like furry paper shredders gone mad.

Dagger's-Edge, when he can feel the piercing pain in his leg finally subside from the Gift. Hoisting himself up to a tripod balance, the halfmoon shifts down to a form that can compensate for his hamstrung leg and attacks in a fury, jaws wide to bite at exposed parts of the Fenris.

Dillen tries to move again, but truly, his neck is fucked.

The little rat spirit emerges from its thing and explains that Bloodpelt isn't, of course, dead, he's just reformed, and will probably be back in a couple days to track you guys down, and seeing as you whupped his but he's pretty much obligated to offer to be your praenomen. Little rat spirit also notes that he'd be willing to make the same offer and _he_ would also be willing to guarantee he won't try and kick your ass if he doesn't like what you're doing, in addition to which he'll be protecting you, in addition to just fighting alongside you. And then the choice is yours.