October 2007 Revel
10/27/2007
12:19 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (92% full).
It is currently 12:12 Pacific Time on Sat Oct 27 2007.
Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 49 degrees Fahrenheit (9 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the west at 8 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.22 and falling, and the relative humidity is 65 percent. The dewpoint is 38 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)
Center of the Caern
This is the central point of the 30-meter-wide clearing. The ground is a mixture of dark, rich, muddy soil mixed with clay, though there is an occasional patch of grass. At the center rests a large white boulder, immovable even by the strongest crinos. The boulder is shot through with streaks of quartz that produces scintillating colors when light strikes it just right. It is, for lack of a wholly adequate word, beautiful.
Around you, twenty yards in every direction, stretches the caern. To the southeast, a waterfall plummets over the edge of the chasm into a small pool in the caern; nearby, to the southwest, steam comes from cracks in the ground, perhaps some of the same water. Northwest, a rocky spar juts out of the ground at a low angle, showing a sloping but smooth top. The chasm walls narrow a bit to the northeast, causing some of the mist to swirl in that area.
Contents:
Nike (Wyrmfoe; Not-Dead-Yet), Cedric (Lightning), Jacinta (Oncoming Storm), Anvilhead (Victor Storm), Felix (Spits-Out-Nails), Saul (Hunts-Wisely), Salee (Witch-Hunter), Chris (Walks-in-Darkness), Lita (LongLost), Kevin (Power-Up), Melodie (Bull Castrator)
Obvious exits:
Rock Slab Windy Spot WaterFall Steam Vents
"Garou of the Hidden Walk. Tonight we have had moot, we have tasted the marrow of the bones. We have come together for stories... Now, it is time to REVEL!" Nike rushes into her crinos form and gives a mighty growl, ~Garou of the Hidden Walk, join me! Let us bring the glory and honor to those who deserve it! Let the galliards tell tomorrow of greatness!~ The Fury elder thrusts her hands into the air and lets out a mighty howl. ~Come with me and we will show them the mettle of our worth!~
Nike howls long and loud.
From Center of the Caern, Nike can be heard to howl, ~Garou of the Hidden Walk, join me! Let us bring the glory and honor to those who deserve it! Let the galliards tell tomorrow of greatness! Come with me and we will show them the mettle of our worth! For now... WE REVEL!~
Bounding into the area in his crinos form, Walks-In-Darkness pants hard, pushing himself as hard as he can as he hears the howl summoning the revellers together. Already having missed the moot, the newly minted cliath has a look of pure desperation to at least make THIS part of it.
LongLost follows Oncoming Storm, taking her left flank and a few feet behind. For once, she seems to be concentrating on the task at hand and keeping her muzzle closed.
Bull Castrator follows behind her elder, excited and full of Full Moon fever, her first adult crazy day of fun as a Garou.
Lightning stands up tall and proud by Nike, encouraging the garou remaining at the end of the moot to gather around his packmate ready for the revel.
Saul remains in near-man for the moment, cracking his knuckles and stretching his fingers as he approaches the group surrounding Nike.
The Fury Elder moves towards the waterfall and speaks as she does so. ~We must make our way to the Umbra. I will take the point for danger on the other side.~ She flashes out with a hand to Castrator and Lightning. ~You take the rear and make sure all make it through. Understood?~ With this, she stares into the water and begins to step sideways into the Umbral layer.
Spits-out-Nails and Anvilhead both remain in the caern as the moot ends, the two packmates obviously intending to join the revel. When Nike calls to move off, they exchange glances and head towards the Fury as she steps sideways, ready to follow.
Bull Castrator stands aside, watching the other Garou get through, but full of pride at being given a real task.
Lightning adopts a position somewhat akin to the commander on a parachute mission, standing by the exit hatch from the airplane and patting each garou on the shoulder as they leap into the umbra. ~Go... go.... go...~ he bids them in turn.
Saul draws his knife and carefully sets it on the ground before moving near to his tribe and pack mates, waiting until Nike disappears from the Realm before starting to punch his way through the Gauntlet.
Darkness forms up with the rest of the party, glancing around for faces that he recognises, that he can trust. His eyes light on Lightning- well, that fulfils the recognition requirement. Not yet spotting any of his own family, he stalks past Lightning and gazes into the waterfall, slipping himself into the Umbra with the others.
Salee spots her tribemate and flashes him a brief smile before she closes her eyes. Steeling herself to make the transformation from girl to beast. "If Chris can do it, so can I," she whispers to herself.
The Revel of the Garou starts with the traditional hunt of the Engling. The Wyrmfoe leads them into the Umbra, where a spirit appears first as a Chimerling, shimmering and light, before forming into the shape of a ten-pronged hart, utterly symmetrical on either side save for one half is white, and the other is an unnerving pitch black. The harlequin colored beast flees, and the others give chase; those more familiar quickly take the lead and the less experienced fall behind. In the Umbra, though, the Garou are treated to the sight of their caern and bawn in its brilliance under the full moon, as well as the ominous, balefully red eye of the Red Star Anthelios glaring down at them from above not far from their moon sister, Luna. The spirit beast is caught and killed after too long a time of chasing. Those less fit find themselves flagging and winded, but satisfied in a spiritual sense when they take in the Gnosis to be brought back to the caern to replenish its power. The Wyrmfoe then announces that now that the caern will be filled, they can step back over to the Realm. When the Garou do return to the physical side, they find themselves nowhere near the bawn, but in fact a few miles from it. Those familiar with the area note the road, rather unusued and cracked as the wilderness has begun to reclaim it.
Interstate 90
Four lanes of gravel-strewn asphalt on either side of a Jersey-barrier formed median strip cut a swath, east to west, over the land. The cracked, pitted, and potholed highway's lines are faded into near-unreadability, and trash litters the ditches that hem the huge road in from the encroaching woods to the north and south. Traffic makes the highway sing with activity during the daytime; one crossing the road during sunlit hours would have to be swift and careful, for the occasional animal carcass along the roadside attests to the carelessness of drivers. At night, however, the road is all but unused, the rare passing of a vehicle shattering the lonely silence of the surrounding forests.
One could, perhaps, with a determined walk, force one's way through both the southern and northern treelines; faint animal trails are visible as the undergrowth thickens on either side of the highway. As the highway to the west is closer to St. Claire, it is heavily travelled unlike the more pacific stretch of road in the east.
Obvious exits:
North into Forest West South into Forest
Lightning squats down on his haunches, the crinos Silver Fang sniffing curiously at the road surface. ~If I did not know better... I would say this was the Interstate out of town, to the east. I have driven along it enough times to recognise...~
Oncoming Storm snorts at the Silver Fang. ~We have hunted along it enough to know it.~
Oncoming Storm emphasizes the different verb choice.
Bull Castrator looks really confused. ~ What? Is this supposed to happen? ~
Lightning looks at Oncoming Storm sourly. ~When I last drove it, it was in better repair than this. Was it like this when you last hunted here?~
LongLost frets a bit by Oncoming Storm's flank. ~So, wait. Did we miss or something?~
As soon as the garou have exited the umbra, Walks-In-Darkness moves across to place a huge paw on Witch-Hunter's shoulder, a gentle touch despite their war-forms. ~Be brave, little-sister. Make me proud, let me make you proud.~ He intones seriously, while sniffing at the air. ~Odd.. I didn't know the road was this quiet. Or old-looking.~
Not-Dead-Yet looks to the others that know the road better. She gives a sniff of the air and a brow is raised. ~If the road has changed then we surely must keep our eyes and ears sharp. Castrator, take the rear and keep a sharp eye with two others. Lightning, Felix... Up here with me. The others, keep eyes and ears focused and listen as well as smell and see.~
Oncoming Storm wrinkles her nose and huffs. ~It is the same as it always is.~ She doesn't seem concerned about the state of their location, though she's a little tense given that it /is/ their location. She sets her gaze on the cub, briefly, and then looks to the WyrmFoe. What is your plan?
Ripping his way out of the umbra, Hunts-Wisely bristles as he appears on the edge of the road rather than in the caern. He casts about to see the others still around and growls softly as he waits for the Wyrmfoe to give further direction.
Spits-out-Nails moves to the road's edge and looks up and down it. Anvilhead joins him, looking supremely unconcerned about the state of the highway. Wait here, Nails tells his packmate, and he joins the Wyrmfoe as ordered.
Bull Castrator shifts down to Hispo, for the sharper senses and sharper mind. ~Oncoming Storm, will you and your cub help me guard the rear? You're the best of our hunters here. And be careful, people, if we're in the realm, we're a veil threat.~ She drops back, trying to see what there is to see.
Lightning frowns at the road, and again at Oncoming Storm, before moving to join Not-Dead-Yet. ~Yes, Wyrmfoe?~
Witch-Hunter casts a glance upward to Walks-in-Darkness. Her Mother's Tongue is slow, somewhat stumbling. ~I don't think it is supposed to be.~ Her tone is hushed, itent on keeping quiet and hiding her sub-par fluency in equal parts.
Oncoming Storm slides down into lupus, her white fur growing mottled and blending in with the background as she calls upon her tribal gift. She turns to her cub and flicks an ear, indicating that the cub, also, should return to the wolf form. Then she lifts the corner of her lip in acknowldegement to the Wyrm Foe.
At the instruction of the wyrmfoe, Darkness falls silent, answering Witch-Hunter with a nod and a shrug before hunkering himself down a little, getting closer to the ground and closing his eyes for a moment, concentrating solely upon his ears and nose to feed him information from the cool night air.
The Garou present, with their lupine modified senses, hear the sounds of motors first. Car engines. A lot of them. The Walkers and more city based Garou, though a touch out of place in the woods, are able to determine those sounds being those of flatbed trucks and other large engined gas guzzlers - not your compact cars or luxury sedans.
The Wyrmfoe calls for quiet, and also motions the Garou towards the bushes. ~Keep out of sight, first,~ snarls the ahroun with a wave towards the somewhat thinned treeline. ~Ragabash, to the fore. I want to know how many there are.~
LongLost grumbles a bit, but isn't about to go against her tribemate's wishes. She shrinks down to Lupus as well, brown fur a natural blend, despite lacking any Gifts of her own. From there, she backs a bit, letting the elder Garou take the front.
Bull Castrator shrinks down to Lupus as well, and takes shelter in the bushes, out of sight.
Hunts-Wisely continues to bristle, body language radiating irritation. He waits for the Ragabash to take the lead, then follows at a short distance.
Darkness shifts himself down into hispo to gain more of a balance between strength and stealth, activating the blur of the milky eye as he moves forwards to join the other ragabash, body held low against the ground as he scans the night ahead, taking in the sounds and the smells of machinery and looking for movement, light.
Witch-Hunter likewises shifts down to Hispo and uses her gift of Blur of the Milky Eye. She drops her undersized self down out of immediate sight, keeping her eyes on the road and her ears perked.
The cars head closer, coming from the west and headed east. Four Hummers, three heavy trucks, and one large black Escalade SUV with tinted windows at the head roll down the highway like a platoon. All the Garou can hear them incoming, but it is the ragabash venturing closer to the road who can see the vehicles enough to count them. The notable thing that's off: None of the vehicles are using their headlights, and they're driving at a considerably slow speed for a highway.
Lightning moves from crinos to hispo, also, and backs away into the scrub at the side of the highway. ~Is this a funeral cortege?~ he remarks quietly to Nike and Felix, still seeming baffled by it all.
Oncoming Storm circles around the cub and heads a little further back into the trees.
Bull Castrator remembers her orders, and forces herself to look at something other than the trucks, looking around for movement from behind them.
LongLost pasues a bit, noting, ~Sweet ride,~ before turning to follow Oncoming Storm into the safety of the shrubbery.
Spits-out-Nails backs off from the road, too, and addresses Anvilhead. Back, packmate, back. We should not be seen until we know more.
Darkness at once seeks out deeper cover in the grasses by the roadside, swinging his tail behind him as he speaks silently in the language of the wolf. Cars. Dark. Black. No lights. Anyone able to smell wyrmstink? This one cannot. And then, he is lowering himself to the ground and taking lupus form, eyes and snout just poking out of cover enough to be able to study the approaching vehicles better with sight and smell, but hopefully hidden well enough with his gift to avoid detection.
[You paged Witch-Hunter and Darkness with 'When you're close enough, Salee with her nifty Perception is the first to smell out: Gunpowder, gasoline, flammable chemicals, and lots of it. Chris should be able to note it next. There's one driver for each vehicle, that is obvious. Human appearances, all dudes, all with cropped hair in similar militaristic fashion. You can't see the inside of the Escalade SUV, though, due to tinted windows. More will be noted in GM pose.'.]
From the bushes, Hunts-Wisely casts a glance over his shoulder at the road before taking a few steps deeper into the woods, making sure he's concealed. He begins sniffing at the ground and casting his gaze about the woods nearby.
Lightning lets out a sudden semi-suppressed bark. Oh! Yes. I do. Shall I...?
Witch-Hunter bristles, suddenly on edge. This is bad. This is very bad. She shifts to Lupus and holds perfectly still, observing. Don't want to miss any details.
Darkness studies the oncoming convoy ever closer, his own body-language imitating Witch-hunter's. Tense and tight. Smell for wyrm! This one's nose can taste fire-stuff, explosives, gunpowder! Danger! Danger!
The Wyrmfoe bristles further, senses strained as she looks over the gathered, and growls under her breath. ~Ragabash, report!~ snaps the Fury.
The caravan rolls to a stop, engines still running. Luckily, Lightning recalls his gift right before passenger doors to the Though no one gets out of the SUV, the passengers of the heavy trucks step out. Each of them is dressed in similar fashion - combat fatigues and t-shirt. Each of them has cropped hair in militaristic fashion. Each of them carries a large rifle, the kind used for hunting purposes. "Can't see a damn thing out here," complains one man as the three meet up. "How the hell're we supposed to find these fuckers?" The walkie-talkie in another of the trio's hand bleeps - Nextel - and a raspy voice marred further by static announces. "We do it here. Find them."
Lightning frowns and his eyes cross a little as he taps into his Gift, and focuses on the convoy as it grinds to a halt.
Anvilhead gives a silent snarl, his lips moving back to display his teeth. Spits-out-Nails moves an inch closer to his packmate, nosing his neck. Calm, calm. For now at least. The Wyrmfoe will tell you when we are to fight.
Hunts-Wisely finds what he's looking for, a decently sized rock, back in the woods a bit. He approaches and drags his claws of his right paw across the surface, repeating with his other paw. He finishes up just as the convoy arrives, repressing a growl as he moves back towards the main group.
[You paged Lightning with 'There is a distinct and pungent sense of Wyrm in the area now, as you might note, despite the heavy presence of Weaver-esque materials. Deadly combination, that.'.]
Panic rises in the young red wolf, and it shows in Witch-Hunter's body language. Guns! Military? Threat. Looking for someone.
[Long distance to Oncoming Storm: Sai makes a quick roll (one of few). You and Lita are about to spot one BSD, Hispo. Trying to be sneaky and remain undetected.]
Bull Castrator looks very nervous, and turns towards her Alpha for guidance. Hide? Run? Attack?
Darkness is near shivering as he catches the sounds of the human-speech. Slowly and carefully, the young wolf begins to back away, still blurred under the effects of his gift as he uses every ounce of his dexterity and stealth to try and avoid detection. To those who can see him, his body language repeats Witch-hunter's statment, adding to it as well. Hunters, radios, long-guns. Looking to hit something. This one thinks us.
Oncoming Storm shifts back to hispo once she is far enough from the road to not worry about the veil. The movement beyond seems to come with little surprise, it's why she'd circled further back. Hackles raise and a low, insistent growl comes from her throat, ~Behind!~ Hopefully quiet enough that it doesn't carry far, only far enough for the nearest of the other Revelers to hear.
LongLost huhs from where she's at. No lights? That breaks a law. They are so going to get tick... huhwha?! She turns at Oncoming Storm's snap, dull city-trained senses having missed the activity behind. ~Ah Hell.~
Lightning starts to sidle backwards very slowly, evidently all too conscious of the fact that his white fur is not good camouflage in this situation. Wyrm, much wyrm, he advises the main party as he slinks towards them tail first, keeping as low to the ground as he can, with even his ears flat (rare indeed in a Silver Fang).
Shortly after the statement from the Wendigo, though, the spotted movement suddenly disappears. Rather, the Pure Ones lose sight of the others as a curtain of darkness drops right on them, erasing all visibility. A lone howl from the back breaks loose where they are, eerily high and whooping.
"Shit! They're here! They're here!" screams the man with radio into his receiver. It follows with car headlights turning on, and the caravan of cars moving like a metallic wagon train to point towards the darkness, towards the Garou. Doors fly open from the four Hummers, the sounds of gun hammers cocking back. One of the men takes aim, firing at the dark, the bullet whizzing past and missing everyone. The Garou Revelers face a squad of eight outside, and perhaps more in the vehicles.
The Wyrmfoe swears aloud at the howl, blurring immediately up to Crinos form. ~Fall back, Garou, fall /back/!~
Bull Castrator looks really frightened. Fall back to where? We can't lead them to the Caern!
Back! Nails repeats in lupus, pushing Anvilhead. Back, back! The lupus stands for a moment, still growling quietly, seeming unaware of the imminent danger.
Lightning reverts to lupus as Nike moves up to Crinos. Shall we hold them back, like ancient heroes at the bridge? he asks her. His body language is a mix of nervousness and relish for an upcoming fight.
Hunts-Wisely growls as the bullet whizzes by, turning and bounding deeper into the woods at Nike's command. He stops after no more than ten feet, turning back to growl at the so far stationary Garou. ~Deeper woods give us more cover! Follow orders!~
[You paged LongLost and Oncoming Storm with 'Inside the darkness, you wouldn't be able to tell which way it falls or how far it extends. Darn Shroud. But! Sounds like the road is still north of you, and the movement is close. (Jacinta's experience: So long as you don't run into a tree, you should be able to run right out of the Shroud curtain at some point. Lita: Past Life FTW. Similar idea comes to mind.)'.]
Bull Castrator seems to be eager for clearer direction, and bolts for the woods when Hunts-Wisely orders it so.
As the bullet whistles past him, worryingly too close for comfort, Darkness freezes for a couple of seconds- darely baring to breath before, after calming his initial fear, he continues to worm his way backwards to the others, seeking safety in numbers. Witch-hunter! BACK! He signals frantically to his 'sister', still remaining stealthy rather than quick for the moment, until he reaches enough cover to allow himself to rise up into a run. The blur still surrounds him, even as he heads for the woods.
[From afar, to LongLost and Sai, Oncoming Storm turns, brushing past Lita, and nudges her back the way they came. She won't move further until she knows that Lita is going.]
Witch-Hunter can't quite seem to bring herself to move away, fear gluing her to the spot. Until the bullets start to fly and her brother calls to her. Darkness! So close. Could just tear out the foolish hunter's throat. It would be easy. She only hesitates another short moment before retreating toward the dark and the woods, keeping low.
LongLost freezes for a minute as teh darkenss fully envelops her. Ohshitohshitohshit... she goes flat, trying in vain to catch a glimpse of something, until Oncoming Storm nudges her. Catching her elder's scent brings an almost instant calm to the cub, who then focuses. Think. Think thinkthink... She starts backing out slowly, still down on her stomach, then speeds up a bit as she senses movement that isn't the Fostern.
~Large moons to the front! Find that bitch of a Wyrmspawn that howled our position and kill it, damnit!~ Nike is about to shout out more when the sharp reports of gunfire open up. The crinos Fury snarls as a bullet hits, ducking down but doesn't look too affected by it. To Lightning, the Wyrmfoe nods with a growl much like officer to officer. ~We need to split them up. We need a diversion. Can't let them get closer to the caern.~
Bullets fly by the retreating pair of ragabash, one of them zipping past the flank of the retreating Witch-Hunter. The eight squad proceeds forward from behind the Hummers, and the three trucks, using the vehicles as cover while the Garou find the woods as theirs.
Oncoming Storm and Long Lost soon find themselves backed safely out of the shroud of darkness. From the corners of their blinking gazes, a blackish wolven form charges past, turning direction to head for the Wyrmfoe's group closer to the road.
Lightning asserts that he is Not-Dead-Yet's to command twice over; as Wyrmfoe, and as his pack alpha. Shall I break cover and try to lead them away? Or blind them with the light of Falcon?
As soon as he's in the woods and with the rest of the non-Pure garou, Darkness shits himself up into crinos. ~Where do you need us?~ He asks of Nike, keeping himself low and still blurred against the whizzing bullets. He glances back behind him, to make sure that Witch-Hunter is still with him, as he clenches and unclenches his fists, preparing for combat.
Remaining in hispo, Hunts-Wisely growls his assent to Nike's command, turning towards Anvilhead. ~With me, packmate, we hunt the Wyrm!~ With that he starts moving in the direction of the howl, keeping alert and searching for his target.
Bull Castrator moves to join the Wendigo, feeling less terrified in Oncoming Storm's solid presence, and not really aware exactly what troubles that they're currently facing.
Spits-out-Nails turns once Anvilhead finally makes his move, and he makes the third member of Stormfront to head in the direction of the howl. We hunt, we hunt the Wyrm!
Oncoming Storm shifts direction abruptly once she is out of the blackness, turning on a dime and leaping forward, she races after the form that escaped behind her, jaws snapping at its haunches, claws reaching for its hind legs.
Witch-Hunter catches up to Walks-in-Darkness before she shifts back up to Crinos herself. She's caught up in the suddenness of events, not quite sure what to do with herself.
Not-Dead-Yet nods to Lightning, pointing for the Silver Fang to take the young cliaths. ~Ragabash, with Lightning and me. We'll get them to follow us if we can. Shadow Lords, find their weaknesses and destroy them from within! Bull Castrator--~ The Wyrmfoe stops as her tribemate moves away, squinting towards the dark where she'd gone. With a growl, Nike changes tactic briefly and motions for Lightning to go on ahead.~
The Wendigo ahroun leaps forth after the Spiral Dancer charges past, Rage blurring her claws as she strikes out. Though she catches the hispo, she manages the tear off a large hunk of already rotting flesh from the enemy, slowing it down but not stopping it completely. Bull Castrator, sighted and in the path of the Wyrm's bastard, is soon to be run down as she can see the frothing visage of the BSD coming right at her.
Darkness nods sharply in response to Not-Dead-Yet, turning to follow Lightning as she orders. ~Want me to drop the blur?~ He asks of Lightning as he falls in behind him, the young garou's blood pounding in his veins as a mixture of sheer gut wrenching terror and exhiliration beyond compare flood through him.
Bull Castrator quickly shifts up to Crinos, standing her ground. Her plan is entirely to take a hit, and slow it down enough for Oncoming Storm and her cub to get it from behind, and pray to Gaia that she survives the manouver.
LongLost, clear of the shroud, stays low, belly on the ground, but managed to get turned around a bit. Under the safety of the trees, she turns in place, to find Oncoming Storm ripping at the BSD's flank. She starts to move, until a bullet pings somewhere nearby, then pulls back, holding position for a moment. She shifts to Hispo, waiting for the right moment to burst out and help her tribesmate.
Lightning turns to the two Glass Walker newmoons. With me! he tells them. And no concealment. We are trying to lead them away! And with that command, and with a deep breath, the white garou moves forward and to the left, breaking cover to the flank of the men by the vehicles.
Hunts-Wisely skidding to a halt at Nike's second command, Saul spins back to stare in her direction. He growls, the ruff of his neck bristling with renewed irritation, ~Spits-Out-Nails, help the Wyrmfoe? Take Anvilhead, she could mean all of us or only smaller moons.~ He spins and takes off at a full run, heading for the sounds of the battle between the BSD, continuing to growl as he goes, ~I'll risk it.~
Spits-out-Nails pauses for a moment, as though unsure whether to take Hunts-Wisely at his word or not, but then seems to decide that there is no time to stand pondering. With me, Anvilhead! he tells the ahroun beside him, and the two Shadow Lords move quickly towards Not-Dead-Yet.
Darkness falls in behind Lightning in crinos, still keeping himself as low as he can. He actually keeps up his gift, reasoning it'll help worsen the hunter's aim- but he lets out a deafening howl as he charges across, trying to draw their attention.
Witch-Hunter almost reluctantly relinquishes the cover afforded to her by Blur of the Milky Eye. She follows quickly after the other Walker and the Fang, hoping to provide the distraction needed.
The lone Black Spiral Dancer charges headlong at Bull Castrator, madness in its rounded eyes apparent. Despite her intent to take on the Spiral one on one, though, the enemy doesn't seem to have that same intention. A shift of direction in its run takes it right past the waiting Fury as well, and it laughs a high, barking, /mocking/ laugh that sets her hackles all a-bristle. Almost as if it were /daring/ her to give chase, like Jacinta is as well. The Wendigo fostern snarls with being able to draw first blood, and calls to her cub to follow as they run after the Dancer. Hunts-Wisely is able to see the Dancer soon enough, as is the Wyrmfoe, who howls out her challenge to the corrupted Garou and charges forth to meet it.
Back on the road, the goon squad with guns spot trio of diversionary crinos as they break cover and show themselves. Rifles aim, and rifles fire at the trio, many of the bullets missing and others hitting - one plugs Witch-Hunter in the shoulder, but it surprisingly feels like nothing, more like prick of a needle than a bullet. Darkness feels a few angry pieces of lead whistle past his ears, but nothing hits. Lightning, however, is less lucky and is struck thrice, likely due to his white fur standing out as an easier target to focus on.
Just a moment too late, Lara, somewhere in the woods right near the road, belts out, ~Eight of them with thundersticks, lying in wait! Eight Weaver-trucks, which will pin us with their light!~ And then there's some slight noise of her dashing through underbrush.
LongLost, now that the bullets have turned another direction and called forth by her tribemate, bursts from the trees as well, giving delayed chase of the Dancer, several lengths behind both Oncoming Storm and Bull Castrator. Go go go go go!
Spits-out-Nails watches the gunmen with fierce concentration. ~Come on, come on,~ he murmurs to himself, ~must be something...~
Bull Castrator snarls, enraged at the mocking Dancer. She may be the smallest Crinos here, but she's one of the fastest, and the abominable creature shall not escape alive if she has any say in the matter. She gives chase, the light of the full moon reflecting from her Crinos eyes.
Growling deep in his throat, Hunts-Wisely changes course to cut the Dancer off, charging full speed at the beast.
Anvilhead paws the ground as he stands next to Spits-out-Nails and, restless, utters a hungry and impatient noise, half whine and half growl.
Lightning staggers a little as he takes a hit, and a splotch of red appears on his white flank. No, make that more than one. The wound seems only to spur him on, and growing to hispo once more, he charges the nearest hunter, teeth bared and eyes gleaming. As he charges, his body seems to swell further, making him look larger and more noble even than a normal hispo garou.
And now comes the traditional garou berserk charge. Though Walks-in-darkness is still blurred by the effect of his gift, it does not lessen the fact that ten feet of angry werewolf are now bearing down at top speed towards another one of the hunters- the closest that is not currently being targeted by Lightning. A huge talon lashes directly towards the man's head, aiming downwards as Darkness closes into range, another deafening battle-cry passing his lips as he engages another human for the first time.
Oh no they didn't! Witch-Hunter sprints forward with renewed ferocity. The bullet may not have hurt, but it's the principal of it, darn it! When she realizes the Fang has been tagged, she seems stunned for a moment, steps faltering. But then, lets out a furious howl. Someone is going to pay. She goes in, claws ready.
With not one, not two, but Five Garou chasing after it, the lone Black Spiral Dancer seems to find a perverse enjoyment in facing down even more of them. Nike and Saul, the last two Garou on the way, block its path. Bull Castrator, Oncoming Storm, and Long Lost are quickly catching up from behind with the small Fury in the lead. The Spiral lunges right at Nike, though, shifting to Crinos in mid-leap and tackling the Wyrmfoe to the ground, snapping rabidly for the other's throat. It's all she can do to keep from getting caught, as Hunts-Wisely strikes from behind, the ahroun's jaws finding the Dancer's thick neck fur.
The three heavy trucks at the back roar to life, turning off the road and heading back around for the group of Garou fighting the Dancer. Headlights bob as wheels encounter rough terrain right off the side of the road, making them seem highly unbalanced and unfit for the bumps (no matter what the manufacturers claimed). It leaves the black SUV sitting there idly, while the four hummers and squad of eight rifle-armed men by them continue to aim for the diversionary Garou. The Silver Fang's Gift, though, makes them pause long enough to stare at the white one, his fur shining in the dusty lights. It's a distraction that works well enough that Sun Clencher attacks, catching the riflemen by surprise. Followed shortly by the diversion-turned-offensive, bullets fly but nothing stops the Garou from finding their targets to be little more than squishy humans. Four go down, torn into by supernatural strength and speed, claw and fang. The rest of the squad pulls back, scrambling to get back into the protective Hummer vehicles as the drivers try and manuever around the werewolves.
Spits-out-Nails charges the Spiral Dancer from the side with as much speed and force as he can, trying to knock it away from Nike with momentum as well as claw its ugly hide off. ~You are not fit to touch her!~ he howls as he charges.
Bull Castrator stops her charge as the Dancer goes directly into the main force of Garou, and shakes off her rage-inspired mindset. ~It's got to be a trick, he's like a Ragabash!~ She spins, looking behind them at whatever he was luring them away from, fully expecting to see the rest of a Dancer pack, or worse.
Anvilhead stares with violent avarice at the moving trucks, but when Spits-out-Nails charges toward the Dancer attacking Nike, he leaps after to support his packmate, lupus body boiling upward into Crinos form.
~Your big ugly cars will avail you nothing now!~ scoffs Lightning as he springs at the next target. He seems to forget that the chances of these humans understanding Mother's Tongue must be low to zero.
Shaking his head and worrying at Dancer's thick ruff, Hunts-Wisely continues to growl, the noise suppressed by the thick skin in his mouth. He lies flat on the Dancer's back, using his hold to keep his balance and reaching forward with massive paws and freshly sharpened claws, trying to catch one or both of the Wyrm-child's eyes.
Darkness gives no such pithy words, only a wordless bellow of rage as he sprays blood from two bullet wounds to the face. He instantly taps his inner rage, hurling himself forwards towards the cluster of troops fleeing for the hummer. His claws fly wildly back and forth, his jaws snapping and tearing at anything within range as the bloodlust swells within him, the gore from his first kill already spattered over his claws and body.
Witch-Hunter follows Strikes-Like-Lightning's lead, going for another of the fleeing hunters. They won't get away so easily.
There's no Dancer pack awaiting Bull Castrator's suspicious look further into the woods. Hunts-Wisely stabs into the Dancer's unprotected eyes, eliciting a howl of pain as the tainted one releases the Wyrmfoe. Within moments, though, the immediate area around the ahrouns bursts into flames as the element is summoned forth. Hunts-Wisely's own fur catches on fire, and Nike is singed by the heat. The BSD? On fire as well, only the rotten smelling oil covering its fur lights up like a dried up Christmas tree. Jacinta and Lita both change tactics, headed for the incoming trucks. Windows roll down and from the passenger sides of the vehicles come gunshots.
The proximity of the trucks cuts both Felix and Anvilhead off from the others, but done so in a most unsubtle manner. Anvilhead is literally run down, smashed in the back by an over one ton vehicle that sends him flying off to the side.
The Garou by the good squad catch a couple of the others. Darkness' claws drag down one man, his weight crushing the human beneath. Lightning as well, grabs one of the fleeing men by closing his clawed hand around the man's small head and tossing him back. The Hummers forget about those remaining outside, driving off and into the dirt to get away from the crazy raging Garou on the road. However, they too circle around and the windows roll down. The front passengers open fire on the group, suddenly mobilized.
Anvilhead hits the ground with a heavy thud and a yelp, but bounces back to his feet full of slather and fury. ~TRUCK /DIE/!~ the lupus bellows out, and charges at the vehicle that dared attack him.
Sun Clencher runs and leaps onto one of the Hummers, fist smashing down towards the windshield even as she does so.
Not-Dead-Yet pops up from the ground and in a rage fueled moment grabs the Dancer's leg and tries to rip it from it's body and beat the spiral with it.
LongLost blasts past the BSD and the burningBuringBURNING over there, charging the trucks that are snapping shots at herself, Oncoming Storm, and Bull Castrator. She LEAPS as she gets near, seemingly intent on either landing on teh hood of a moving vehicle ... or possibly just flinging herself through the windshield.
Bull Castrator winces as the trick is revealed, and then again as she's slammed with a stray bullet. She turns her attentions to the hummers, a rage-fueled rush and an attempt to tear the face of of one of the drivers, which should reduce his accuracy.
Spits-out-Nails abandons his attempt to pull the Dancer apart with Nike like a Thanksgiving wishbone, and goes racing after Anvilhead. ~The people! Fight those! Not the truck!~ he calls to his packmate with urgency, seeing the lupus-born Shadow Lord squaring up for a confrontation with the big vehicle.
Hunts-Wisely releases the Dancer's neck and leaps away as flames explode around him. Growling in barely restrained fury he feeds on the Rage his auspice is known for, exploding instantly into Crinos. Continuing to feed on his anger, the Shadow Lord grabs the nearest fallen branch (or log, whatever) and swings it with all his might at the flaming Dancer.
Some would call it being surrounded. But for Darkness at the moment, 'surrounded' merely means 'target rich environment'. Bullets ping and splatter off the bleeding crinos like so much hot rain as he hurls himself towards one of the circling cars, leaping up towards the hood of one with the full intent of ripping clean through the windshield and anything unlucky enough to be behind it.
Lightning is still chewing up hunters happily, his muzzle stained with blood from more than one of them now, and seeming perfectly content in this combative context. ~This is a Revel!~ he shouts to the new Glass Walkers cliaths that he fights alongside. ~Amazing, what?~
It's obvious that Witch-Hunter doesn't hold her anger very well. After cutting through her one hunter, she's already starting to panic again. She looks around wildly for a target that she can hit without having to try and pry a door off its hinges.
The strength of crinos and the rage of Garou is a powerful thing. So are the Gifts they have. In moments, the diversionary Garou have taken down the remaining of the goons outside but the Hummers are in operation. Sun Clencher leaps onto the hood of one of the Hummers and disappears as darkness drops atop of her and the vehicle. Only the sound of smashing glass, screams, snarls and squishing noises can be heard coming from within.
Bull Castrator chases down and crashes into the target truck. Her fist breaks through the glass in a shatter, and despite the vehicle moving she grabs ahold of the driver inside. The Fury is taken on a wild ride as the truck swerves wildly, tipping towards her as she makes one side much heavier than the other with her weight and sends the vehicle on two wheels rather than four. Jacinta and Lita take on another truck, and the cub leaps on to the hood with a heavy Thud, barking up a storm. The swears and gunfire miss her, just as her fostern elder goes in low and claws out the front tire on one side. Pop.
Felix is treated to the sight of Anvilhead taking out all the stops. The lupus ahroun tears into the side of the truck trying to kill /it/, but misses the gun pointed right at him. BLAM! Point blank, the ahroun is shot in the face and half of his muzzle is torn away.
As Cedric makes his comment about the Revel being amazing, another raspy voice comes floating in from off to the side. "Amazing, I'm sure," comments a sickly looking man who stands by the open door of the SUV. A remote control is held out. A button is pressed. Two of the Hummers /explode/ in great balls of fire, sending the Walkers and lone Silver Fang down on the ground.
When the cars explode, the leg from the Dancer rips away and into Nike's claws. She doesn't get the chance to swing it, but Hunts-Wisely swings a branch in a somewhat effective manner that cracks against the Dancer, leaves and all, sending the flaming enemy down to the ground. The Dancer doesn't revive, laying prone on in crinos form with blood and spittle spilling from all sorts of ends.
Spits-out-Nails bristles with sheer impotent fury as Anvilhead, only a few feet ahead of him, takes a bullet to the jaw. Heedless of any fear that the gunman's weapon might contain further bullets and might not yet need reloading, he leaps, his strong hispo haunches sending him into the air, and -- he hopes -- over Anvilhead, and onto the gunman, whose throat he so very badly wants to tear out with his teeth.
Lara, shaken by the explosion, falls off her truck, Shroud cutting out on her. She's up again in a moment, apparently assuming that it's hard to drive when you've just been gutted, and racing for the sickly looking man.
Bull Castrator does her best to jump away from her truck as it starts to irrevocably tip onto its side, relying on her gymnastics training to roll free. She's uncertain what else is going on, hearing explosions and screams and growls all around, and needs to take a moment to regain her bearings, even if she lands well.
Not-Dead-Yet bangs the leg down on the Dancer's corpse as if not satisfied enough to just drop it. She rushes the man who pushed the button, intent on tossing the guy into the air.
LongLost, seemingly heedless of danger, stands atop the truck's hood a moment more, snapping and snarling and spittle flying across the windshield, even after the truck wobbles with the missing tire. The explosion, however, changes things quickly. Ignoring the shouts from within the truck she's perched on, she runs up the winshield, over the top, and leaps to the ground behind it, stumbling from the landing but four-legs scrambling back up, quickly. She's paid no mind to either teh minor wound on her flank, nor the man with the man with the remote, instead running at top speed towards the burning hummers and the bodies strewn about there. OhGodohGodohGod.
Still holding his branch and quaking with fury, Hunts-Wisely bashes the Dancer in the skull once more before surveying the burned patches of fur on his body. Not bad. And then Not-Dead-Yet takes off running. Without knowing quite what he's heading for, the Shadow Lord runs after her, surveying the rest of the battle as he runs.
Lightning looks at the guy with the remote control stupidly for one long, long second before his finger descends on the button and the ball of flame and jagged, twisted metal slams into the Silver Fang, sending him flying. When the smoke clears, there is no more white-furred killing machine; there's just a man, lying sprawled in the road face down, long blond hair blowing in the fierce wind from the flames, and a puddle of red fluid spreading slowly and ominously below his motionless body.
Darkness receives what can only be described as the shock of a lifetime as a very UNimprovised explosive device detonates in his face. The youngster finds himself suddenly flying through the air, perceived in his own mind as slow motion as he slams down onto the concrete of the road-surface. The boy is still conscious- but rather wishes that he wasn't. At least the shooting seems to have abated and the blast threw him clear of any immediately obvious baddies. ~Sal.. Witch-hunter..~ He groans, his eyes closed against the pain as he lies there, letting his body heal as best it can. ~Sis.. are you okay? Tell me you're okay..~
Anvilhead lies there where he falls. Amazingly, he isn't dead. He has no nose anymore -- in fact his whole upper jaw is just /gone/ -- but he's still alive. The mauled Shadow Lord makes gurgling, heavy-breathing noises for a few seconds before hauling himself to his feet and looking around stupidly.
The world seems to stop just as Salee realizes what's about to happen. She hits the ground heavily as the world around her explodes. Her first instinct is to simply lay there, ~Darko...~ She starts to tell her Glass Walker brother that she's all right, but then she spots Cedric. ~No!~ The Ragabash girl tries to pull herself to her feet, to no avail. Instead, she drags herself across the ground toward the Fang. ~Don't you dare...~
Song-of-Luna and First-Strike are both running toward the sound of explosions, presumably from entirely different directions. The two things they have in common is that they're both running full out in lupus.
Wild card unveiled, the man with the bang button quickly retreats in light of seeing the Garou turn on him. An unapologetic sneer casts over his face as he hurries into the SUV and the vehicle peels off with a squealing of tires on broken asphalt, abandoning the others of the convoy to their fates. The rage fueled Garou that pursue are quick, but not quick enough and have to chase down the retreating car.
Long Lost arrives to burning wreckage, finding Cedric, Chris and Salee amongst the bodies, alive and perhaps regretting it. Jacinta herself doesn't relent her attack on the flat-tired truck, taking some wild shots but her fury evident as she plunges her arm deep into the chest of the gunman and tears his still beating heart right out.
Felix manages to snap his jaws not around the gunman, but the gun and rips it out of the guy's hands -- and the guy's hands with it. The driver of the truck sees what happened to his comrade in arms, and in a panic jumps out of the car to flee.
The lone Hummer of the group turns from the explosion and wreckage as the Wyrmfoe, Lara and Saul race towards the fleeing SUV. In one last straw, the surviving gunman inside levels towards the dumb ahroun a wicked looking harpoon like device and pulls the trigger. The spear strikes, running the ahroun through from behind. Then the gunman shouts to the driver to go go go, and off the car goes, chain starting to pull taut as it's attached to the Shadow Lord's body.
Sun Clencher flashes forward and slashes for the tires first, and /then/ tries to jump onto the roof of the thing, presuming she's slashed them.
Not-Dead-Yet runs as fast as she can to leap and crash through the window of the car and rip anything inside it to shreds.
Hunts-Wisely matches Nike's speed, taking a flying leap at the SUV and trying to grab on and stay attached.
That does it, as far as Nails is concerned. In a flash, he takes Crinos, and like the Wyrmfoe he's pelting as fast as his feet, and his rage, will take him in pursuit of his packmate who's being dragged like a horrible modern-day version of Hector the Trojan behind the wheels of the Wyrm's chariot. His mouth is still holding a hand and a gun, which he hasn't taken the time to spit out.
There's something up in the canopy, running along from branch to branch like he was in the cast of Crouching Tiger/Hidden Dragon. It's the other arctic wolf-esq crinos, who takes a leap at the SUV with the harpoon. He dives off of the last branch like a Olympic swimmer, jumping for the vehicle's roof. If he should make it, he attempts to slam his weapon through the windshield into the driver's compartment.
As his wounds close a little, Darkness shifts himself back down to glabro and grabs hold of a nearby discarded rifle, both claiming it as a trophy and using it as a crutch to push himself to wobbly feet, moving slowly to let his body continue healing. He limps across to Witch-hunter and Cedric's unconscious body, collapsing down onto his knees once he reaches them with a small cry- part pain, part anger as he slumps to the side again. "Someone help him!" The injured boy yells in human-tongue while running his eyes over Witch-hunter's body as well, trying to see how badly hurt SHE is. What a mess...
At the forefront, Not-Dead-Yet races towards the retreating SUV with an almost frenzied snarl on her frothing muzzle. The Fury's rage fuels her so greatly that she hits the SUV in a bag of pure unbridled Fury. Claws tear open the sides of the vehicle's body, the action causing the sharp edges to cut her hands up - not that she's noticed, as she tries to reach the man inside with the bomb control. Sun Clencher's tire-popping tactic works the way Jacinta's had done. Effectively disabling the vehicle from manuevering too much, the rest of the car lurches and slows. It allows Hunts-Wisely to leap atop the SUV as well, Razor Claws making short work of the top. The trio of Crinos tear into the car like rabid cats at a sardine can, while inside the group fires a couple of guns through the windows at the Sun Clencher and the Wyrmfoe. Silvertip's aim is /just/ well enough that he comes down from above like a diving falcon. The spear in his claw impales the driver through, very much to the man's surprise. With four Garou on the SUV, the flat-tired vehicle spins in a very heavy offbalanced manner and starts to tip over.
The Hummer dragging Anvilhead along tries to accelerate through the brushy, gravel terrain by the road and wood, but Spits-Out-Nails' charge takes the Shadow Lord right beside his packmate being pulled along like a ragdoll. Frenzy licks at the philodox's mind, but doesn't manage to take over his hunting instinct. In the meanwhile, Oncoming Storm has finished pulling out the guts of the truck driver in her charge, and tosses the man's entrails from her before looking towards the fleeing driver of the abandoned vehicle. The Wendigo drops into her lupus form to give chase.
Long Lost reaches the heavily injured, and for a moment the extent of the wounds nearly sends her into a panic of how to help. But again, the focus returns and a medic-on-the-battlefield calm washes over her as she moves to patch the Silver Fang up. The knowledge is there. Just the supplies, not so much - but there are plenty of things to MacGuyver a solution with, and hands to help.
Sun Clencher is punched back by the bullets, but she pushes herself forward, slashing angrily at one of the gunmen.
Song-of-Luna plunges out of the trees and onto the road in front of the hummer Felix is chasing. She's in her birthform in a single blink, and quite without caring about the speeding vehicle coming towards her, she leaps and lunges at it, attempting to clear the hood and simply mow through whatever might remain of the windshield. RAR.
Lita drops to Homid and her knees in the same motion, down by Cedric's body. She takes just a moment to hold a hand out at Darkness, warding him back to give her room, then closes her eyes, centering for a heartbeat, then a second. "I can do this ..." She then moves into action, tending to the Silver Fang's injuries with both a practiced ease and a calm that just shouldn't be there in one so young. She quietly asks for aid from the two Ragabash nearby, holding here or tying there, to staunch the worst of the wounds with whatever clothing scraps or tools available.
Spits-out-Nails springs onto the Hummer, joining Silvertip from behind just as Song-of-Luna does the same from in front. For a moment the three garou look at each other in mutual surprise. The second moment sees Spits-out-Nails snarl as he sees the metis's multi-armed form. The third sees him recognise who this must be and cut the snarl off short. And the fourth... the fourth moment is used by the Shadow Lord to try to tear the roof off the vehicle like the lid from a can of peaches, and, no doubt, with the same aim for the contents of the container. In his anger he tears at the metal, heedless of any chance of his actions dislodging Morgan and Silvertip, or even himself.
Tearing the roof off of the SUV, Hunts-Wisely drops into the front seat, tearing into any unfortunate occupants and hopefully staying out of the way of the way of Not-Dead-Yet and Sun-Clencher's claws.
Cedric suddenly groans as consciousness returns, and speaks in his usual upper-class English accent. "Dash it all, Lucey!" he exclaims in a voice loaded with pain. "Be a good fellow and get the number of that bus, what?"
Not-Dead-Yet rips through the car, intent on reaching the man who blew the button. ~You will die!~ She screams out in wolf tongue and then hears Cedric's voice. It only fuels her more to reach that man and wrap her jaws around his neck.
Silvertip rips the spear out from the Hummer's windshild, hopping off the roof of the vehicle and hitting the ground. He whirls around to face the way he just came from, cocks his spear arm back, hesitates for a quarter second, then lets it fly.
Glass shattering, metal screeching as things are ripped open, the Garou on the black SUV make very short work of vehicle itself as it finally finishes tipping. Sun Clencher breaks through a back window and digs her claws into a gunman who is helpless to stop her, despite unloading the last of his pistol into the Garou. The Fury and Shadow Lord both manage to get at the mad bomber, the last gunman and the driver inside. In short, the end of the fight for them comes in a toppled SUV with blood and guts pooling right on the road.
Silvertip's aim is not so much careful, but focused. The experience of the spear wielder proves true in aim as the weapon sails through the air before coming down in a silent dart and impaling the fleeing man. He gets in a short 'hurk' gurgle, and then he is ended as Jacinta catches up and tears the man to pieces with the remnants of her fury. The Wendigo ahroun looks up towards her brother, and bares bloody teeth in a fierce approval of his well-aimed shot. Song-of-Luna and Spits-Out-Nails open up the car top to find just one gunman left inside, helpless to the rage of the Garou as he is skewered from head to toe - it's unknown who exactly gets in that killing blow, but it likely doesn't really matter at this point.
Lita, the Walkers and Cedric are left unmolested, as the cub's ministrations help patch up the better part of some bullet wounds. Shifting helps, but the burns from the fire and molten shrapnel will be staying for a while.
Song-of-Luna gleefully tears the gunman to bits, even after he is quite clearly dead. She even gets in a few blows on the driver that Silvertip killed, she's /that/ eager for violence right now. And once those prove unresponsive, she starts in on the seat. Rip, rip, RIP. Her lower arms are useless in all of this, but they still make furious clawing motions, as if they would join in if only they had claws and the reach to do so.
Cedric stays with the Hummer exactly long enough to ensure that its driver is dead, and not one second more. Then he's out of the ripped-open vehicle and scooting back along the length of chain that's attached to the Hummer at one end, dropping to the road surface at the chain's other end where his packmate is lying. ~Anvilhead. ANVILHEAD. Speak to me.~ He looks up roars down the road towards the other garou. ~HEALERS. NOW.~
Spits-out-Nails stays with the Hummer exactly long enough to ensure that its driver is dead, and not one second more. Then he's out of the ripped-open vehicle and scooting back along the length of chain that's attached to the Hummer at one end, dropping to the road surface at the chain's other end where his packmate is lying. ~Anvilhead. ANVILHEAD. Speak to me.~ He looks up roars down the road towards the other garou. ~HEALERS. NOW.~
First-Strike arrives, finally, recognizable for the fact she looks like a weasel masquerading as a wolf with that overlong back and long thin tail. She's panting, her flanks are heaving, and one look at the carnage draws her up short. Staaaare. ~Holy Mother of Fucking God's shitstained underclothes...~
Not-Dead-Yet comes up and out of the car that she has ripped through and pounds at her chest. ~See to those in need!~ She growls out and heads for Anvil. She reaches for the chain and goes to the beginning to pull it from it's source, making sure to not damage Anvil any more.
Cedric finds the energy to shift as far as glabro, in which form some at least of his wounds begin to heal. He pulls himself up on one elbow and looks around at the carnage. "Dear lord. Have we won?" he asks Lita, dismay in his voice.
Silvertip waits for the fleeing man to go down, before he turns to scan around at the carnage. His chest heaves as he tries to catch up on his breath, and appraise the situation.
Sun Clencher pulls herself off of the dead body, licking at some of the blood that got on her face. She grabs the gunman's gun and shakes it fiercely.
Oncoming Storm turns from her brother after that gesture of approval and lopes toward the cub. She gives fierce looks to the others near Lita, protective and judgemental all at once.
Dragging himself out of the wrecked SUV, Hunts-Wisely breathes heavily, turning to survey the carnage. "Shit," he says, the human word harsh from Crinos throat, ~How are we to clean this?~
Lita looks down at Cedric, saying softly... something that very much isn't English. She looks up, then shakes her head, as if coming out of a trance. "Shit! Fuckfuckfuck!" She glances at her hands, which are now nice and bloody, as are quite a few other parts, and starts trying to rub it off without much luck. She glances around rapidly, grabbing the tattered remnants of an ex-hunter's shirt or jacket, slipping them on while managing to sort of maybe kinda smile at Cedric. "You'll, uh, be fine? Just, like ... lie there or something?" She manages a worried glance at Salee, to ask, "You a doctor?"
~Bodies.~ He pants over to Hunts-Wisely. ~Give us the bodies. We can get rid of them.~ Silvertip huffs out, catching his breath. ~Who are they?~ he asks his packmate, when she starts to get closer.
~We've won,~ Darkness tells Cedric. ~If you can call this winning.~ The young cliath, himself far from unscathed, is also surveying the scene of mayhem with something like disbelief.
Not-Dead-Yet makes her way to Anvilhead's side and looks down at the fallen warrior. ~We have to clean this up. Everyone who isn't healing or being healed, gather bodies and... And make it look like one hell of an accident. A gang bang... We will blame this on those drug pushers.~
Cedric groans as he pulls himself as far as a sitting position. "Damn and blast it," he observes as he looks down at himself. "Even Lucey couldn't save this shirt." The nicely-tailored garment is indeed so soaked in blood that there's more red than lilac visible.
Song-of-Luna continues ripping at bodies and car upholstery in the stopped hummer, quite ignorant of anything else.
Giving a nod to Silvertip, Hunts-Wisely shifts down to Glabro and starts collecting corpses. He starts two piles: one for corpses, one for whatever he finds in the corpses' pockets.
The Ragabash Crinos stares incredulously at Lita. ~No...~ She'd probably say more, if she trusted herself to speak Mother's Tongue better.
Oncoming Storm sends a glare at Nike as she continues toward the cub. She slides into glabro and lays a hand on Lita's shoulder.
First-Strike slides up into crinos, still staring and being generally useless, for the moment, as she takes in this huge, HUGE scene of carnage. ~I...fuck. FUCK. Who needs me? Someone point me toward...~
Lita clings to Jacinta, curling into a hug and cries, body shaking. She doesn't even try to say anything, for now.
Spits-out-Nails remains on his knees by the fallen Anvilhead, arms around him, until it's quite plain that the lupus will not move again. Then, finally, he rises to his feet, his face a terrible cold mask of anger. He stoops to the ground, picking up the gun which he tore from its wielder earlier along with his hand, the weapon almost toy-sized in his crinos claws. He walks over to the vehicle which shot the harpoon at Anvilhead. And he slowly, deliberately, fires the remaining bullets, one after another, into the already-shredded corpse. ~Die. Die. Die. DIE. DIE!~ he begins to snarl, pulling the trigger again and again until only empty clicks sound as the hammer falls on void space instead of live rounds. Finally he flings the useless weapon at its last target, drops to his knees again, and begins to do something which no sept member has ever seen the dour philodox do before; weep.
Song-of-Luna is finally torn from her shredding revelry by the bullets going right past her face. She yelps, rounds on Felix, and only just manages not to attack him too. Only just. She snarls, claws flexing, barely holding herself from frenzy.
~Don't waste time.~ He snarls at Hunts-Wisely. Silvertip turns to Lara, who finishes brandishing her gun proudly. With a motion, Sun Clencher starts to drag off bodies away. Silvertip looks to the raging Shadow Lord for a brief moment, but apparently decides to not interrupt. Instead, he calls to Jacinta, ~We need to get the bodies cleared.~
First-Strike is visibly trying to reign in her frustration at her own confusion. She looks this way and that, teeth bared, and finally seems to hone in on those demonstrating apparently clear heads. She waves at Oncoming-Storm and Silvertip, urgently. ~Tell me what to do. I have the Touch and I'm uninjured.~
The growl of an engine sounds from the direction of the highway, and a big old truck comes bumping into view. Only one headlight's working, but it's enough to illuminate the carnage.
Lita pats Jacinta's arm, pushing back a bit and rubbing at her eyes. "I'm alright, I'm alright..." She waves a hand at the carnage, adding, "Go do what you gotta do, I'll be fine."
Saul pauses from the work with the corpses, looking over the bloodied, shreaded and exploded vehicles. Then he turns to look at Silvertip as the Ahroun growls at him, "The hell're we doing about the cars?" And speak of the devil, there /comes/ a car. The Shadow Lord bends to pick up the nearest rifle, wheeling on the truck and waiting to see what happens.
Jacinta nods agreement to the Uktena, and then looks around at those present. ~The time for the Wyrmfoe is past. Blizzard's Teeth has experience. Those too wounded to help, here, to me! The rest, follow Silvertip's order. Now! Act Fast!~ She looks at Lita and clearly includes her in the direction.
~Your shirt is the least of our problems,~ Darkness says to Cedric as he rises to his feet again, still clutching the rifle he's collected in the fight. He trudges towards Silvertip to join the morning-after squad.
The truck stops short of running over any bodies--dead, wounded, or otherwise--and the engine idles. Tatt (in Glabro) climbs out of the cab and kicks the door shut behind her. "Looks like it was quite a party," she says to nobody in particular, surveying the damage. She kneels to check the pulse of the nearest fallen human, then bulks into Glabro and tosses the carcass over a shoulder without ceremony, heading back towards the pickup.
Silvertip's voice raises high. ~Get a body and follow me. Drop it where I show you, and come back for more. Take two if you can carry it. Don't bother doing anything with them, you'll just waste time!~ He shoulders his weapon, and reaches into the Hummer to grab out the drive he killed. Slinging that one over his shoulder like a rag-doll, he starts to truck it off in a direction. ~Now!~
Spits-out-Nails remains on his knees in the middle lane of the northbound Interstate, tears slowly coursing down his face, staring at the black tarmacadam and his bloodstained hands splayed out upon it.
First-Strike moves immediately toward Oncoming Storm, with all speed, agitated and urgent.
Song-of-Luna finally, finally seems to get control over herself, and fight down the urge to smash Felix to bits for existing. She grabs the bits of the hummer's driver and gunman and hauls them out, leaping down to follow after Silvertip.
Tatt eyes Silvertip from afar, with a body still over her shoulder, and grumbles something about a 'fucking eleventh law' as she switches directions with her cargo.
And that answers one question. Saul wastes no time in discarding the rifle and nodding at Tatt. He grabs a corpse and tosses it over his shoulder, following the Uktena to the woods. Then return, rinse, and repeat.
As much as it pains her, Witch-Hunter shifts down from Crinos to her birth form, crawling away from the road and from everyone. Seeking a moment or two of peace... Or rather, just a place where she won't be bothered as she props herself up on her hands and knees and starts to vomit onto the grass.
Once the injured are in Mouse's capable hands, Jacinta moves to help with the clean up.
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