6/3/2004

03:40 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

From Around the Lone Boulder, Sings can be heard to howl, ~Brothers and sisters, come to my aid! There are invaders on our territory! (OOC Notes: Timewarped to last night. Trevor is not using Call of the Wyld.)~

Around the Lone Boulder
The sparse forest gives way here into a vast clearing, entirely devoid of trees or heavy underbrush for great distances all around. Low, thick grass, a palish green in color, grows everywhere underfoot; it sways ever so gently in the chill winds that seem to settle in across this open expanse with unusual frequency. The occasional darker shoot or dandelion weed makes its way up amidst the rest, but the hilly territory is on the whole a uniform color, reminiscent of a moor. Adding to the image is the single, ponderous old stone, a grey-brown in color, settled uncannily in the dead center of the expanse as if it has perched there alone since the dawn of time. Grass grows up around the weathered boulder, but its vaguely-flattened top clears the grass by a good many feet, at least chest-high to a good-sized man. The sky, often grey, is a presence in this sudden openness, appearing from amidst the treetops to arc high over the grass and stone.
Woodland tracks lead off into the forest to the north and south, while the boulder itself stands at the center of the clearing.
Contents:
Rite preparations
Obvious exits:
Forest  Boulder  

Trevor is standing waiting for anyone who answers his call, knowing the attack will go much smoother if he shares what he knows so far.

Hardly a sound is made, despite Three-Blades's appearance nearby in Hispo form. The ivory fur of her chest sticks out, only coupled with the darkish red bristles of her hackles. ~What's going on?~ is her answering growl. The ragabash lacks a scent.

~Some balls, like candyfloss. They head for our Caern, but slowly.~ SIngs-To-Spirits is clearly glad to see the Hispo. ~They are blind, but hear well. They have many teeth, and bite hard.~ One of his hands is testimony to jusy how hard. ~We must reach into the Umbra and attack silently. Crinos claws make short work of them, and sound is the only thing that will give away our movement.~

Three-Blades growls her displeasure, the relatively full moon still riding her back as she shifts slowly up to the warform. ~Lead on then.~ There is a vague glance from the newmoon, to see if there would be others coming from the caern direction to help.
You have shifted to Crinos form.

~We must go now, we cannot wait.~ Sings says, looking in the same direction. ~Follow me, and remember, we must be silent.~ And then the Fianna reaches across the Umbra.
Sings's eyes stop contemplatively on his reflection.

Umbra: Light Woods
These sparse woods stretch away, north of the place of power that is the Caern, hemmed in on the west and north by unsubtle swaths of decaying, web-covered grey that denote roads in the Realm. The entire area, all around, is a vivid reflection of the physical world: colors are brighter, scents are sharper, sensations more crisp. The trees reach upwards, impossibly high, towards the heavens, while the airts of various animal spirits wind crazily through the undergrowth; the land is replete with life, a place where Spirit and Realm are still close together.
A number of landmarks punctuate the woods: a massive thrust of bright, almost crystalline rock that juts upwards, out of a clearing, like a shoulder of the earth; a pair of giant arcs of bone that glisten with fresh blood, between which hangs a luminous bundle of ephemera; a bright clearing, beneath a broad, steep cliff, across which wind spirits dance incessantly. Faint pathways lead off in three directions.
Contents:
Sings
Tersa
Obvious exits:
South  Northwest  North  

The Fianna Galliard may notice the small signs once back in the Umbra of the passage of the spirits noticed earlier.

Once Sings-To-Spirits arrived, he growls. "They have gone futher on, this way." He indicates the signs, heading off the way the spirits went.

Three-Blades follows Sings into the Umbra, the Gnawer taking a bit more time in ensuring a careful crossing. Once in the Shadow, she peers at the immediate area before continuing to flank the Fianna in pursuit.

Now that they've been pointed out, the 'signs' seem to be occasional glimpses of rolling, fuzzy creatures that resemble nothing less than furry softballs. There are many of them, traveling herdlike southwards towards the Caern, and by the time the two Garou are here, crossed the boundaries onto the Bawn.

Leading the way around the herd, Sings' objective seems to be to get in front of the herd and then decimate them before they reach the Caern. This he does his best to communicate to Three-Blades in silent hand gestures as they move.

Three-Blades curls a lip at the strange fuzzy creatures, obviously put off by the fact that there are so many of them and the wards have done nothing to keep them out. The Gnawer sees Sings' command and immediately speeds up on the other side to hopefully to get ahead of the creatures as well. There's a brief consideration on her part to maybe make a sound for distraction purposes.

'Getting ahead of the creatures' takes a good deal longer this time than it did for Sings last time. It seems the ones they noticed after crossing in were...if not the tail of the herd, at least well into it, as the front has made its way onto the Bawn. But eventually they do manage to reach there, somewhere around 100 meters in.

Once they are in front of the heard, Sings-To-Spirits raises his claws high and looks over to Three-Blades. Then he nods to the herd. The gist of it seems to be, strike silently when ready.

Three-Blades's head throbs lightly with the pain incurred during the Revel, but she stays on track, stealing glances at the fuzzy herd rolling along, trying to pick out just what these things are in the first place. Her muzzle's open, breathing somewhat steadily in the Umbral air. She looks to Sings as the two of them face the threat, ears flicking once in acknowledgement. Her claws curl, the no-moon focused.

Tersa pages to the room: They're traveling via the undergrowth so it's hard to get a handle on how many. But you'd guess 'a lot'. :)

Once he recieves Three-Blades' acknowledgement, Sings-To-Spirits lunges swiftly and as silently as possible. His aim is to bring his claws down onto two of the leading balls. He's aware that once they start killing, it may be too noisy to sustain their 'invisibility.'

Three-Blades follows after when she sees Sings pull in the first attack. The ragabash moves to one side, slashing at two rollers as well.

Killing these things with crinos claws, even two at a time, is not altogether difficult. In both cases, the claws rip through the soft round rolling bodies, Three-Blades killing both of hers, Sings getting one of his but only wounding the second. It gives a high, sharp keen of pain in reaction, a sound so high that it is probably inaudible to humans and homids, but it acts like a siren to the rest of the herd. More of the fuzzy balls roll out of the undergrowth in their direction, and the ragabash sees them unfurl for the first time, tens of them growing to twice their height as a ball in a flat, wide body, half mouth and sharp, long teeth, tiny little back legs, and no visible eyes. They pause to weave their 'heads' back and forth as if searching for something, then caterpillar rapidly towards the two garou, with more coming.

~Go in different directions!~ Sings-To-Spirits snaps out as soon as the creatures begin to head toward them. His own chosen direction takes him back the way they came a little, the Galliard hoping he can turn them around and away from the direction of the Caern.

Three-Blades earflattens, seeing the caterpillar get bigger. Cursing, she takes off, not so much at a dead sprint, but at a defined pace that allows the creatures to keep her within their 'sight', but also lures them away. ~We need a river, or some kind of valley!~ she howls out towards Sings, thinking of some way to kill more of these things than just two at a time.

Their plan works partially at least. Some of those uncurled do follow after Sings-to-Spirits, while some go after Three-Blades. But, an equal third seem to continue their rambling way southwards.

Sings-To-Spirits considers the number, and then launches forward at those coming after him. ~Kill yours, then we will take on the last group!~ The Galliard howls, claws flashing as he tries to take down two at a time.

Three-Blades grits her teeth at the galliard's suggestion, particularly when she glances behind her to see that not all the furry things have followed them. ~Come on then,~ she growls, spinning around to face her pursuers. Using her speed, she darts forward to slash at the head fuzzball of the caterpillaring creature.

As the two stop to attack, the rest manage to catch up. Again, Sings-to-Spirits takes one down easily, but the second one is barely scratched, and it again, it keens shrilly. It's as if that was the signal, and in a sudden onslaught, half of the remaining creatures have launched themselves at the galliard and clamped on to his legs with the same razor-like maws. Three-Blades takes hers out easily, and although it makes no sound, the lead half of those that remain close on her, the first two leaping at her. One manages to connect, sinking four inch long (each!) multidunous teeth into her flesh, causing blood to well up, but the other one misses getting a grip.

Three-Blades doesn't want to really give the rest of her monster a chance to latch onto her. She leaps away from the multitude best she can with the one on her, using a free set of claws aimed to sink her own daggers into its body.

As the creatures sink their teeth into him, Sings-To-Spirits howls in pain. He then plunges his claws straight downwards, trying to kill or hurt as many of those attached to his legs as possible.

The ragabash does manage to avoid a few of the handful of spirits with launch themselves at her, but two more do attach themselves, even as she kills the one. Sings-to-Spirits, on the other hand, manages to kill two of the four attached to him, but three more get to him, higher up, on his arms.

Three-Blades yelps as she doesn't quite manage to dodge a good ways away. And so seeing as she's a bit more than just bitten into, the no-moon sends her claws down towards the newly attached, hoping to rip them off and fling them away towards their comrades.

Snarling at the creatures on his arms, Sings-To-Spirits snaps his jaws at them in an attempt to bite and rend any he can reach. And, once again, he tries to scrape those still on his legs off with his claws, or kill thm.

The ragabash manages to spear and fling one away, but although she manages to stab the second one, its jaws, like a leeches, remains attached to her. And while she's busy doing that, another three attach. The remaining three are fast approaching. AS for Sings...trying to stab and bite at his arms at the same time are not totally effective. He manages to get two of them, one on his left arm and one off his right leg, but the other three remain. Fortunately, only one new one leaps at him, but in his contorted position, it attaches itself to his back, behind his right shoulder.

Three-Blades contorts in the wierdest way, showing obvious pain as three more fuzzies attack. Eyes rolling with incurred Rage, the ragabash drops down on all fours, howling, ~Get OFF!~ as a roared command. She thus proceeds to roll atop these fuzzy things, hoping to squash all three under hundreds of pounds of crinos weight.

Sings-To-Spirits, seeing what Three-Blades is doing, imitates the Ragabash in the hope of achieving a similar result. As he does so the Galliard howls as piercingly as he can in the hope of hurting the creatures' ears.

Three-Blades proceeds to become like a dog scratching at some very nasty itches. The ragabash goes down, but only to have better reach of the three attached on her legs. Bringing them closer up with an abdominal crunch, she snaps her jaws at one, with one claw reaching to slash down another.

Sings-to-Spirits rolling maneuvar manages to crush a couple of the spirits on him, while the last one takes the downed opponent as an opportunity to attach itself to his butt. The sharp, shark-like teeth rend and tear until the galliard is a bleeding mess, but he finally kills the last one. His right shoulder and left leg are the worst, the haunch muscle of the latter shredded, both limbs nearly useless. Three-Blades has seemed to fare better somehow, perhaps better single tactics on her part, burning her rage, but she still is torn up when she skewers the last one with a foreclaw. Her right leg is a mass of bloody ribbons, the spirits mostly having gotten her there.
The score or so around them are gone, but so, to, are the rest of the herd.

Three-Blades is a whole mass of OW as the last of her targets dissipate into the spiritual nothing. With a heaving, panting effort the ragabash rolls into a kneeling position on all fours, flicking off blood before eyeing the galliard. ~We... need to warn the others...~ she pants, hovering on the verge of fainting.

Sings-To-Spirits hasn't managed to make it to his feet after going down, and he's a near-unrecognisable mess of bloody, torn, flesh and muscle. ~Yes, we do. We must warn them. If one of us can get through to the Realm, and howl...after that it dosn't really matter, if the others know.~

Three-Blades checks behind her, not happy about her leg. ~Can you still move?~ What will she has left, she uses for shifting to hispo. Mangled limb aside, she'll go tripod for at least a few days.

Considering this, Sings-To-Spirits gives a wry, bloody grin. ~I wouldn't like to try.~

Three-Blades coughs out a bit of blood, panting still. ~Try anyway. It's no good to stay here.~ She makes her way over to the galliard. ~We go to the Realm together, or not at all.~

~If we both stay here, we've lost. Because nobody will know they're headed for the Caern.~ Sings replies, attempting to get up. ~One of us has to go, if both of us can then that's good. But all it takes is one.~

No excuses! Three-Blades snorts in the lupine way, remembering that time is of the essence. ~I'm going, and you are coming with. Now concentrate.~

Sings-To-Spirits closes his eyes for a moment. ~It's taking all my concentration not to pass out.~ But nevertheless the Fianna does indeed try, murmuring a prayer for Father Stag to help him.