Three-Blades slowly approaches the building in question rather than boldly striding on forward as the ahroun does. Looking up at the windows further up, she glances back at her packmate, before looking to Rags as he tries a more forceful invasion.
Guards-Flame waits in anticipation as well, claws flexing in underlying impatience for real conflict.
The bars stay firmly entrenched for the first couple seconds before with a small explosion of dust the bricks they're embedded in crumble and collapse, shoddily crumbling down into the room, completely noiselessly.
Rags cranes his head through the windowsill, his muzzle twitching, eager to bite something, and he steps over the windowsill into the room, if nothing shows up to be bitten.
Three-Blades and Guards-Flame look on, one wearing a slightly more doubtful expression and the other cautious. The two press after the ahroun, both ready for a fight, or what other odd surprises the Umbra has in store.
Nothing does show up to be bitten. The room is small, practically a cubicle, and it's dark, shadows flicker about the place, there's movement everywhere. A few pattern spiders, the size of a dinner plate, with legs thin as wire, scurry out from a doorway, towards the Ahroun, though they don't really seem to notice him, and their obvious goal is the wall just behind him through which he'd ploughed.
Rags takes a curving path towards the doorway, taking him out of the direct path of the spiders and the window. He glances back, briefly, to see if the other two are within sight, then he continues on towards the doorway, his intent to see the other room.
Moving in after Yi, Guards-The-Flame makes sure to take up the rear and keep the smaller of the three between them. She is still rather annoyed, quietly growling as her Hispo frame slinks into the room, slowly glancing about, sniffing the air.
The door leads into a hallway in which over a dozen similar doors are placed. Brick is here replaced by something like stone, though closer inspection shows it's just the wallpaper that gives this long corridor the appearance of a crypt. It's dark here, the single bare bulb which hangs in the ceiling overhead seems to do nothing more than leave a bright spot flickering in the eye when you look away. There's a thick smell here of musky sweat and iron and warm blood, but it's scattered and indistinct.
Rags runs his hand over the wallpaper as he moves through the doorway into the hallway, letting the palm rub on the faux stone for a metre, then his claws curl and gorge parallel streaks through the wallpaper, as he moves down the hallway, the streaks stopping only when he reaches the next doorway. His muzzle dips up, tasting the air, as he tries to determine if he can see the end of the hallway.
It turns off, presumably into another hallway.
Three-Blades hunches with the scents that come from the inside of the building, also taking care not to disturb the pattern spiders crawling around. The ragabash follows the ahroun with her eyes, before stepping after him.
Continuing to move along after the other two, Guards-The-Flame breathes in the scents about them, pausing to glance over her shoulder at times to make sure they aren't being followed. She looks frustrated and annoyed, shaking her head now and then.
Rags continues along the hallway, keeping a hand on the wall as though his missing scene was eyes, not ears. He passes by the various doorways, testing each door to see if they open, his ears tilting from long habit and listening to nothing.
Each door does open, one after another, always onto the same scene, the fuzzy old television weighted down by webs, the dog dish in the corner, the spiders. In some though there's a stiff figure, a corpse-like thing, laid out in front of the television, almost midget-like, squat and hollow-eyed. It's wrapped in clothing like a mummy's gauze and completely still, completely enraptured. Its hair is always greasy and slicked back, and though each one is different, there's a drudging sameness about them all. One though slowly turns its head and stares up at Reggie, with eyes that have fallen back into some cavity deep within its head, with a mouth that drips dust when it moves; but what it's saying, the Ahroun will likely never know.
Rags studies the first suite, then moves on to the next, studying the room harder when he sees a television viewer. Finally he moves on to the next room, and the next, and next. He nearly moves past the speaking viewer, but jolts with a double take, and returns to the door, staring at the speaking viewer. He barks out a ~Wha?~, unheard to him or his compansions.
Guards-Flame notices Rag's motions and tilts her head, peering into the other room at the television watcher. She whuffs out softly, then makes her way into the room, staring back, then sneaks a look to the TV.
Three-Blades tenses up with each successive door opening, definitely Not liking this funhouse. When the TV 'guy' moves, she backs up a step nearly into Guards, her fur stuck out on end.
The creature eyebrows move like a puppets do, stiffly and with a sense of friction and weight about them, as it stares at Rags-Torn-to-Rags, an earnest need to communicate something sketched plain on its face. It struggles, confusion knitted over its face, which flickers and moves like worms wriggle just beneath the surface, as a result of the reflected light of the static that flashes grittily against the television screen. Suddenly it falls very silent, it tilts its head to the side like it's listening to a bird's call, its shoulders bunch up in an obvious grimace of pain or fear or consternation, and it twists its head back towards the television, dust spilling over the floor.
~What?!~, Rags demands, still unheard to himself, and, when the viewer turns from him towards the television, Rags steps forward impatiently, ready to reclaim the creature's attention with a forceful shake.
Guards-Flame bumps her head into Three-Blades to comfort her, shifting her body weight some. Something is coming? She gestures in question towards the pair, ears perking upwards, nose sniffing the air as she glances about. Making her way to the television, she gives it a hard hit with her shoulder, looking to spill it upon the floor. Rags! She thumps her paw hard on the ground to try and get his attention. Find something to kill.
Three-Blades swallows down, lips peeled back from her teeth in a passive-aggressive grimace of fear. The Gnawer's discomfort continues its course, despite valiant efforts to keep it together. When Guards-Flame goes to knock the TV over, the ragabash starts to whine in protest, but checks herself in remembering that it's rather futile to do so. She thus looks between the door, the creepy dust-mummy, and the other Garou.
The first sign of something wrong is the the way the whole room seems to shake when the television crashes silently into the into the floor. The movement is slight, like when someone throws himself against a wall, and it's likely that if they could hear the terrible sounds coming through the door behind them they wouldn't even have noticed it. The mummy stays silent except to cringe in further upon itself, and broken shards of television glass bury themselves in the cracks in the floor.
Rags throws his hand up when it seems he's shaken the mummy too hard, only to realize the next second that it wasn't his shaking that shook the entire room, and he turns to stare at the television crash that can cause such an quake. He gets some of Guards-Flame's sense, and he snarls with frustration.
Guards-Flame growls loudly as she feels the tremor in the room, then sniffs at the air a bit, slowly turning around in a full circle as she watches the window, the walls, steering her eyes towards the door last. Three-Blades. Smell anything? She asks, nose twitching franctically. Why did the world shake?
Three-Blades on the otherhand, paranoid already that Alicia's action wasn't all too wise to do, pseudo-confirms her fear. The Gnawer can't suppress her whine, but looks very anxious. The only thing her body posture reads is that she really wants out. And her look to the lone door that seemingly gives off the impression it leads to open spaces.
Those who turn do so just in time to see the creature flinging itself through the doorway. Its form is dark and shrivelled like a petrified corpse, except for the sharp crisp uniform it wears all navy blue and neat. Its face crooks out trollishly, nose hooking out underneath a jack-o-lantern smile showing nothing but teeth and darkness, bright lidless eyes wide as saucers and bugged out like a frog's. It stands at least seven and a half feet and one shrivelled arm would reach down as far as its feet if it weren't extended at this moment to bring a billy club straight across Three-Blades' face as it turns, while the other arm lashes out with wicked claws. A whistle, shiny and bright, throwing light off at all angles, sits perched in his jutted mouth, and when he's not grinning devilishly his cheeks pump at it like a billows, though they hear nothing.
Three-Blades doesn't even get that chance to duck, and perhaps by pure luck does she not get her brains automatically splattered all over the opposing wall. The Gnawer gets sent flying back however, and smashes into said wall. Her yelp of pain goes unheard.
The motion catches Rags' eyes, and he looks over to its source to see the bizarre creature ambushing Yi. Turning frustration into action, he lunges at the creature, his wooden dagger clenched firmly, with toothy point aimed for the torso of the creature. He howls as he momentarily thinks Yi crushed by the blungeon, and he cries out a ~Yi!~, as he strikes.
Guards-Flame shifts into motion and pushes Three-Blades out of the way with her form, allowing the Ahroun to lead into the attack. She chuffs out in frustration, ears flat against her skull as she turns to watch the battle.
The weapon sinks deep into the spirit's chest right at the solar plexus, the Ahroun's knuckles cracking ribs, and it shoots through out the other side almost of its own volition, dragging Rags' fist with it until it finally slips free of his furry grasp to come out the other side. It doesn't puncture the uniform on the back, it just stretches it, and the kinfe ends up lost somewhere in the bottom of the creature's suit. All breath leaves the creature's full lips, its wide eyes bug further out, its whistle falls about its neck and hangs there, for a brief second there's stillness to go with the silence, and then its arms are all movement and tearing, ripping at the Garou's face, the long right arm managing to get the neck and shove it backwards, trying to keep the Ahroun at a distance, while the left stoops to pick up the billy club it's dropped.
Three-Blades isn't dead, but the ragabash is a good measure confused. Guards' push elicits an instinctually hostile snarl from the addle-brained Gnawer. She doesn't lash out however, instead shaking her head and trying to get her wits back about her.
With an arm embedded nearly through the creature, Rags stretches out his claws, to pull the back towards the front, in what'd be a reversal of the critter if it was possible. With his free arm, he flails it at the arms of the critter, as he braces his legs, and uses his Ahroun gift to unsteady its footing before the creature can obtain its blungeon.
Large sections of the creature's back come crumbling down, if it had any sort of human physiology to it it would have been dead many times over; but instead it lunges forward mouth-first, affixing itself to the side of Rags' face like a lamprey eel. Its left hand goes down to snag the club back up, the Ahroun's gift ineffectual, while the right wraps around his body and stretches its unsettling length down to try and grab at the Garou's leg and yank it out from underneath him from behind. Reggie's good strong arm pulls out of the creature's stomach and back under his control, while the other traces a game of tic-tac-toe across its chest.
Three-Blades shakes her head some more and when a semblance of composure comes back, the Gnawer stares over at the battle. She starts to rise back up to her paws.
Guards-Flame gives the Gnawer a light nosing at her shoulder, motioning her to stay back and let the Uktena fight. Her body is tense, looking as if she may jump in at anytime herself, just waiting to see how the battle turns.
Rags' hands reach up to tear the critter away from its obscene kiss, claws digging into each cheek of the face to give it a wider smile. He struggles to keep on both of his feet, and his hands hook into the face, determined to drag the critter down with him should he go.
The two combatants go tumbling down to the ground, Rags on the bottom and the policemonster on top, gnawing and tearing. The Ahroun's claws fail to find purchase on the face just because they keep managing to tear away flesh, fileting its face, and as the skin crumbles to the floor a strange and noxious smelling liquid spills from its head, nasty and stale like an old lady's piss. Oblivious to the way its face is being torn up even as Rags rips open its orbital casing and one of its eyes flops to the floor like a saggy water balloon, it wails about its head with its truncheon, and its cheeks begin again to heave and blow, screaming into a whistle that's now left its lips, and even if it hadn't, one they wouldn't hear anyway. Suddenly another form appears at the door, another creature just like the one struggling on the floor; it takes it just a second to understand the situation, before it rages its billy club above its head to strike at him, whistle blowing unheard.
You paged the room with 'The dusty-mummy videotapes all this and sells it for mucho moola on the Umbra National News as the Garou King beatings.'.
From afar, to the room, Jihgfed laughs! Just because he was Garou! Policemonster brutality!
In a leap, Guards-The-Flame is in motion, tearing forward quickly, leaping upon powerful Hispo jaws, aiming for the second officer that moves in to strike. She blurs, jaws parting to aim for the arm with the club, looking to yank it out of its socket. She hopes her forward weight will bowl it backwards into the hallway.
Three-Blades's deafened ears swing forward at the new appearance of the policemonster, and the ragabash snarls out viciously. Claws come out, and in a blur of motion she leaps up to charge the second monster alongside her packmate. Where Alicia takes the arm with the club, she goes in for the legs like a second defensive linebacker.
Snarling unheard, at least by the Garou, Rags wrestles with the policemonster, all his nightmares of the police rolled into one. Choking from the cistern fluid, he hooks his strong hand into both orbital sockets to force the head back from him, and to try to roll it over, so he can use his other--unfortunately weaker--arm to wrest away the trucheon before he gets a skull dented by it.
He manages to rip the creature from his neck, in the process shoving viciously sharp claws in through the one remaining eye, puncturing it and spraying a thin white liquid onto the floor. The Ahroun manages to get his weak arm between his head and the billy club, though he can't get it away from the spirit, and the spirits other long arm has finally wriggled away from underneath the Ahroun's copious mass, and is beginning to rake its dirty nail claws against his groin.
The policemonster coming in gets knocked back mid-swing, though the truncheon finds purchase against Guards-Flame's shoulder rather than Rags' head. It topples under the weight of the two members of Resonance thought it fights back fiercely, wailing at its whistle before it forgets it in favour of trying to latch its mouth around one of them as it claws.
Alicia and Yi> As you pounce the creature's body out the door, all snarl and rage, you glance down the hall to see two more creatures (or is it three?) pummeling down it, blowing fiercely at their silent horns and waving billy clubs in the air, accidentally knocking down the bare light bulb in their wild flailing, which crashes down against the floor and then they are cloaked in darkness.
Landing heavily, Guards-The-Flame is in Crinos form, pounding quickly with her claws, trying to shred them into the spirit's face, snarling loudly. ~Two more comes!~ She roars out despite her defeaned state, at least using her pack link to signal to her pack mate of the oncoming danger. Her eyes lift up, glaring ahead into the hallway, then steps outwards to meet the new, leaving the Gnawer to finish off the one they tag teamed into.
Three-Blades doesn't hear anything, but with coordinated attack, and her packmate suddenly leaving to greet the new foes she spots just before the lights go out, the ragabash snarls out and drives her claws into the policemonster she has a hold of. She fully intends to pay back that surprise attack, despite this one not being the same monster that had caught her offguard.
Failing to hear the ripping of his claws through the critter's substance, the splashing of the liquid, or the thumping of blows, Rags finds the experienced of the silent fight somewhat unnerving, and his eyes roll wildly, but only gets glimpses of the other two Garou busy at the door. He keeps his scarred arm up, fending off the billy club, and suddenly howls at the pain of claws on his most delicate parts, and releases his grip through the eyesockets to frantically grip and wrest upwards the long arm.
The struggle on the ground between Rags and his opponent is filthy and savage. The Garou manages to wrench the creature's claws away but it's just a holding action, his arm keeps getting battered and the thing plunges blindly down teeth first, trying to get another good grip.
The concerted action of the two members of Resonance flays the creature beneath them but despite the skin that falls from it like chaff, when Guards-Flame gets up and moves on it redoubles its efforts, wrapping its wide mouth around the back of Three-Blades' arm, biting down hard while one arm comes up to try and brain the Ragabash again with its club. Guards-Flame, meanwhile, waits from the threat which presumably is barrelling in from the darkness, but is lost to sight and sound.
Shifting her gaze quickly back and forth to the hallway before her, and the room off to the side, Guards-The-Flame watches the battle between her pack mate and the creature, growling in frustration that she can't hear, or even see at this point. Wisely, she ducks herself back into the other room, throwing out a fast set of claws to the monster in what she hopes is a surprise attack, trying to wrench him off her packmate.
Three-Blades howls out, the song of pain lost to deaf ears. The howl quickly turns into a snarl of rage as the Gnawer opens her jaws as wide as she can and directs her bite towards the policemonster's head, twisting and writhing around for the positioning. Her free arm claws at the monster's club-arm as she does, held lifted to protect herself as best she can.
Grunting with each blow of the club on his arm, Rags struggles with the the other arm. His muzzle wrinkles from the rank smell as the de-eyed creature aims for another obscene kiss, and he wrenches to one side to avoid being its recipient. He pulls the arm he's got a grip on, after him, to try to roll the policecritter.
With his opponent as blind as the Garou is deaf, the heavy Ahroun pulls himself painfully to the side just in time for the police officer's teeth to latch viciously into the floorboards, tearing up splinters and dust. With a quick wrench and a shove he twists its thin, dry body until he's on top, and it's bent and twisted like a rope, though its arms still flail, cuffing him with another knock against that bad arm right at the shoulder, causing it to numb completely; but now the Garou is on top and in charge, the policemonster pinned face-first into the ground.
Three-Blades begins gnawing at the back attached sucker-like to her shoulder, knocking free its tight cap, mangling through hair slick with grease and pomade. Her free arm restrains the club arm which can at best flail uselessly at the wrist, but the creature's other arm scratches and tears with sharp small nail claws across the Garou's belly. Guards-the-Flame turns to sink her claws deep into the creature's exposed side, spilling vile liquid to the ground where it mixes with the dust of its skin to form a thick, nasty paste.
Yi> You can see out of the corner of your eyes the creatures' long arms extending out of the darkness behind Guards-Flame, long and thin as tree limbs craning out, clubs extended to come crashing down against her, at least two of them, and the grinning faces of the policemonsters appear immediately after, bug-eyed and puffing madly at their whistles. You've got at most a second before they hit.
Three-Blades maddeningly gnaws at the the creature, teeth seeking to rip out what she can get, until something else catches her eye. Detaching immediately and roaring out, the ragabash heaves hard with policemonster in tow and makes to leap at her own packmate, either to bowl all three of them to one side or right into the dark of the hallway.
Rags' bad arm dangles limply, left to knuckle-drag on the floor, as the hefty ahroun slams his good hand into the back of the shoulder of the police critter, pinning it while he jerks up one knee, then the other, until he has most of his weight crushing the critter. He rests a second, his breath coming in wheezes, until the flailing arms reannoy him, and he uses his good hand to grap the first to flail back into range.
Whirling around at the tingle in the back of her mind, Guards-The-Flame hops to the side as her claws slide away from the beast, silver armor glinting with each movement. What?! What?! She rumbles away through her pack link, claws at the ready, one of them striking outwards into the darkness before her.
Two billy clubs come hurtling down from the darkness as the creatures charge against Resonance, one hitting Guards-the-Flame about the shoulder, while the other strikes down against the face that's attached to Three-Blades' arm, as the Ragabash manages to hurl herself and it forward causing enough disarray and confusion to keep the worst of the damage off Guards-Flame's head. The jaws on her arms slacken but not before crunching more fiercely down, and the creature seems momentarily stunned. Another arm joins the two wielding billy clubs though, as another creature appears out of the darkness, three arms now bringing their weapons down over and over again with machinelike precision, advancing towards the pair of deaf Garou like a juggernaut, cheeks puffing in and out in a mad discord none of them can hear.
Rags, meanwhile, has a time for a well-deserved, albeit brief, respite, the creature's dry chalky body turning out to provide not as uncomfortable a seat as one might expect. As he shifts his weight to grab an arm there's a sickening but unheard crunch, and one whole half of the creature's stomach, already punctured in the middle by the knife he'd driven in, gives way, and the rapid pace of flailing slags and fails.
Three-Blades roars again, this time in pain rather than rage-filled warning as she goes down from her leap. Grabbing for the stunned policemonster still attached to her, she seeks out purchase to tear its mouth, head, whole body off before it can maul her any further and hurl it at its companions in the dark.
~Dammit, RAGS! HURRY UP!~ Guards-The-Flame roars out in her defeaned state, leaping to her feet again and whirling around to help out Three-Blades. Her claws flash outwards, aiming to peel the creature off her pack mate, blurring into a series of attacks as her claws sink in and out.
As the creature's flailing slows, Rags puts in some flailing of his own, with only the one arm, to regain his balance after his seating gives way. Lurching to one side, Rags puts both hands down, without regard to if it's on the creature of floor, only to find his numb arm isn't supporting his weight. He straightens up back onto his knees, reaches for an arm of the critter with his good arm, and in one movement of exhaled breath and clenched jaws, he rises, feet planted atop the critter, and yanks back on the arm as hard as he can.
Three-Blades yanks the creature from her shoulder as Guards-the-Flame rips ragged gashes in it until it dangles like a slinky, before the Ragabash finally hurls the thing, spinning herself in place, trying to roll it off her shoulders, skill and practice making up for her missing arm in getting the needed leverage. The body flies limply through the air but it does little more than slow down the incoming hail of clubbings. Like some insane game of Whack-a-Mole they rain down as the two try to get out of their past; but their quick approaching and further retreat will mean abandoning the doorway.
Inside the Ahroun hunches heavily up to his feet, battered and numbed but triumphant, and taking hold of the creature's arm, bracing his clawed foot against its limp body, he yanks with all his strength, and whithered skin and flesh and bone snap and give, the uniform tears, and Rags holds an arm even longer than his own, but pale and thin, and clothed all in neat blue fabric damp with the thing's white blood and Rags' red own.
Three-Blades falls back when the creature is finally extracted, nose working furiously as she tries to determine where the next threat is going to come from. Giving ground, she issues a sharp whine uselessly. Her claws remain curled forth, teeth bared at the dark.
Giving the arm a vicious shake, Rags begins to howl, then snaps his jaws shut, nearly piercing his tongue on his own teeth, as he doesn't hear himself, and he jerks about, eyes searching for two Garou he's sure came in here with him. He steps off the uniformed body, and marches to the only place these two can have gone, and pokes his head through the doorway, performing a quick count of flailing clubs and assessment of how Resonance is doing. He looks the way where he came, from the room with the opened window, to see if that way is still free.
Turning to face the other spirits, Guards-The-Flame jerks her head in Rag's direction, then shoves Three-Blades hard towards the hallway behind them, motioning for the Uktena to follow. She starts to move quickly, grunting. Her body language screams to run, to get the /fuck/ out.
Guards-Flame blocks the incoming assault as best she can but the nightsticks pelt at her fast as boxers' jabs, pummeling down against her and past her defences. Her gift however turn away more of the blows than her arms do, which just seems to increase the fury of the long arms that pummel down from the distant policemonsters at awkward and impossible angles. No more are seen to arrive but at the same time the walls could be thick of them. The stench of the place, the dust which gets sucked painfully up into nostrils, robs Three-Blades of her sense of smell in addition to sound, but her paws still pound quickly down the hallway.
Three-Blades doesn't question, only runs as ordered. Ears flattened back, she contains her yelps of pain that come from the injuries to her body. Only once does she spare a glance back now that she's a good distance down the hallway, to see if the other two are coming.
The motion of the clubs cause an illusion of sound played in Rags' head, and, although not actually hearing them, he aurally images their ringing booms and resounding smacks. Clamping his teeth about the uniformed arm, he bolts on all four limbs transforming from the war form into the slightly smaller hispo, and readily pelts it after Yi.
Thump Thump Thump. Guards-The-Flame snarls and sends off a quick claw into one of the creature's faces, before to, turning and blurs down into the Hispo form, trying to speed her way down the hallway after the other pair, accelerating herself as quick as possible.
The claws thrown at the creatures' faces come far short of impact, just knicking an elbow, the overextended arms preventing any closer stretch, and Guards-Flame gets a thump that snaps her head down as she turns in return for her efforts. Still she feels nothing and finds her feet, and the two Garou are tearing down the hallway in fast pursuit by the long-armed law, puffing madly at their whistles. They leave the darkness, into the grey room they'd entered, to find the pattern spiders they'd left busily trying to repair the hole they'd carved in the wall, carrying on their backs the crumbled bricks strewn across the floor. The policemonsters are just behind, their pounding footsteps can be felt along the floor.
One of the long arms of the law bounces against the walls and drags on the floor as Rags drags the thing, occasionally tilting it one way then another, and raising his head, to better carry it. As he enters the room, his feet spread apart as he begins to brake, then, seeing no bars up yet, scrabbles at the hard floor to regain lost momentum, and runs helter-skelter at the window. If he was any slimmer, he'd have a chance of making a graceful leap out of the window, but as it is, he has to bull his way out.
Three-Blades rushes headlong into the grey room soon as Rags is the one coming up fast. Still in her Crinos form, she ducks her head down. Throwing her weight around for the third time this eve, the ragabash charges forward to crash through the wall a second time, hoping weakened state gives into nice, open street.
Continuing forward at her speed, Guards-The-Flame watches the two barrel forward, lending her own frame to the impact as she leaps in, putting her shoulder into the brick. She never once looks behind her, her eyes glued to Rag's big hairy ass.
With all the raw grace and style of the Kool-Aid man the three Garou burst back through the crumbling wall, taking enough with it that the second floor of the building begins to visibly sag, though it stays somehow erect. Covered in blood, their own red and that of the monsters' all shades of yellow and white, plastered with dust and deaf, the three spill out into the grey outside, trophy between Rags' jaws.
Oh Yeah! The Gnawer Ragabash wants to howl with elation soon as she can breathe that fresh Umbral air, but no time for celebration. Rather, as soon as she tumbles out, the ragabash continues her retreat - this time with destination in mind. Her path heads for the Park.
Rags' big hairy ass continues propelling him after he leaves the building. He stops momentarily, performing the feat of counting to two, as he checks that both Yi and Alicia made it out, then he starts down the street harbor-park wards, with an eye kept on the others to see that they follow. His speed down the street is considerably slower than his sprint through the building, as his wind is blown.
Landing smoothly on her paws, Guards-The-Flame arches her back and rises to her full height on all four, shooting a look behind her as she bolts off, then starts onwards towards the park. Run! Run! She motions, huffing under her breath.
The policemonsters do not seem to pursue, no matter how many frantic looks back the Garou may give. The bats though, as they make a bee-line for the park and pass right through their territory, do, though they do no more than dive and harass and further frazzle the already fleeing Garou. The thick grey haze of the city hasn't dissipated in the time since they started out, in fact its thickened, so that it's almost difficult to find their way back, and for a second or two the threat of becoming lost, while injured and deaf, in the city Umbra, stares uglily down at them from skyscrapers' tops, but eventually they scrabble their way back to the small scab of green by the river.
Three-Blades keeps her head down soon as the bats restart their divebombing. Not even stopping to get in a claw swipe, she doesn't stop her lead until they do manage to find the park again. Like a football player jumping through to the touchdown, the ragabash leaps onto the gray-green grass and skids, and comes to a very ungraceful stop. Aaaand safe! For now.
Trotting towards the pair, Guards-The-Flame lets out a tired breath, giving her pelt a shake and then begins to look herself over, sniffing, nose wrinkling. Come, to the realm. She rumbles, shifting herself up into the Glabro form.
Rags' numbed leg drags throughout his flight, and he keeps his head low, guarding the trophy, as they pass under the bats. His speed slows as they progress to the park, and it's with relief that he can stop, the large body tired out nearly more by the run than by the fight.
Rags swings his head over to the Child of Gaia, and his ears flatten, in a disagreement with the Fostern's suggestions. He adjusts his grip on the arm, giving it a shake, then indicates the direction of the moonrise with it, where the caern lies.
Three-Blades pants heavily, sprawled out where she is and for a moment, not caring about anything more than just to lie there. Soon as she composes herself though, the ragabash sits up slowly. Ears splay as she looks from one face to the other. She too, only silently shows her doubt they should cross right now. There's a second look to Reggie's trophy, and a scowl to the offending arm.
Alicia sprawls out onto the ground and takes in a deep breath, starting to feel her wounds as they wrack her body and her gift wears off. Ow Ow Ow. She rumbles away in her throat, watching the pair, then sniffs at the air with a nod. To the Caern.