[Null Moon] [I’ve run scenes for all of you before, but for those of you who need a reminder, here are the rules for this scene. Please read the entire thing: if I get someone asking whether I want you guys posting to start off you’re getting an army of Gorehounds. With chainsaws. Dual wield chainsaws.
1. In order to finish in under 5 hours, I’m asking you to keep your narrative posts to under 10 minutes; when we go to combat, keep your declares to under 3 minutes unless you’re asking a question or you’ll be skipped, and your rolls to under 2 minutes or I’ll roll for you.
2. Speaking of questions, don’t ask them in the chat; your ST has the attention span of a gnat. Please IM any questions that you have, the sooner before your turn the better.
3. Speaking of the chat: pay attention to it, please.
4. There will be combat this scene. If you’re not prepared for the possibility of losing a character tonight, it won’t hurt my feelings if you log out now.
I’ll be dropping a post to set us up in a few minutes. Sit tight!]
[Null Moon] This one comes from the Sept’s scouts.
People have been disappearing near Hyde Park, in the city’s South Side. People, city workers, well-paid yet overworked construction workers, have gone into the community garden on 61st and Blackstone thinking that they were going to tear up the shrubbery, the herbs and the sunflowers and everything else that was planted during the spring last year, and allow the University of Chicago to replace the entire strip of land with a parking lot for their school’s staff and students.
The day today was warm, almost fifty degrees so, and the night feels almost balmy as though who answered the call from the Caern. It doesn’t matter what connection they have with the area, whether they patrol this section of town or whether they live nearby or whether they’ve never even been this far south: they’ve been called to investigate because just about anything strange that happens within the city’s limits can be thought of as an act of the Wyrm.
They are not yet in an official state of war. The Ahroun Elder has not declared it yet. That does not mean, however, that they are not still at war. They may not be aware of the mortal war that has been going on between the Woodlawn gardeners and the University of Chicago, may not care to keep up with the news or the goings on of the city’s denizens, but they cannot ignore a call for assistance.
So, this is their destination: a tiny patch of in Hyde Park, fought over by humans.
[Joe War Handed] Mixed feelings war just under the surface of Joe’s brutish face. Humans have tried to choke off an expression of the mother in Hyde Park. Turn it into something that will submit to them. Only they’ve been disappearing before they succeed.
…no matter how many times he goes over it in his head, his answer remains the same. Why didn’t anyone call me to help?
Scarred hands curve into fists again and again, as though the boiling flex of shoulders and bicep will push the wrath out of his blood. Make him calmer. Think more clearly.
Nope. ‘Fuck’em’ is all he comes up with- but he answers the call just the same. Flint- edged blue eyes swivel back and forth as Joe takes in Hyde Park’s humble gate from just across the street.
[Banshee] Hyde Park was on her way home from work, so Lukas asked iona to cover this one. Her beat up ’56 Chevy truck gets parked down the street, and the Ragabash exits. A thermal black shirt under a dirty blue tee (from work), worn jeans, and steel toed boots. All this hidden by a gray hodie under a worn green military jacket. As she gets out of the truck, she pulls the hoodie up, and stashs the truck keys in its special hiding place near the rear tire.
She shoves her hands in her pockets, and begins to walk to the area that needed to be checked out. Hopefully it was just something simple and mortal that needed to be handled.
[Null Moon] [Uh… that should be “a tiny patch of earth in Hyde Park.” I can type.]
[Tongue Twister] This comes from the scouts – at least one of which she knows, and idolizes calls Alpha. She was closest to the area, having be on patrol herself. She is one of the first to answer the call.
She is quiet, Rory, and though it’s near impossible to miss her breeding, her hair, she slinks along the shadows as one well used to staying out of the way. The force of her rage clears the path before her and she moves from shadow to shadow, her hands shoved into the pockets of her light jacket, well worn boots tapping a light beat with every stride.
She chews on her lower lip, absently, as she nears the tiny patch of Hyde Park, her steps slowing to see who else has answered the call. She doesn’t meet their gaze, not directly, not even those that equal her in rank, not even those she may consider friend. It’s quick, the glance, and then a duck of her head, an unbearably shy little smile hidden behind those blood-red curls – demeanor completely and curiously at odds with the burning press of rage that boils so easily under her skin.
[Sorrow] Kora is used to walking. Her first night in Chicago – she walked, and walked and walked, from the Greyhound station until she reached the lakeshore. Then she walked more – following the curve of the lake, from the beaches spread out in front of the high-rise condos flanking the city’s core, through the well-developed parks, through the old industrial corridor where the river meets the lake. Tonight, she walks with the same easy grace in the loose group of Garou – the known, the unknown. Somewhere between the Caern and the Southside, she pulls her hair back into a ponytail, and – arms up, elbows high – calmly plaits it as they walk. The unthinking rhythm of the act is familiar, certain, and somehow timeless, just like the long sweep of her gait.
The Fenrir woman left her winter coat behind at the Caern. The battered, second-hand thing is not dedicated, and the city’s streets still radiate retained heat from the baking sun. The sleeves of her old white thermal are pushed up her forearms, the dark t-shirt over it is fitted against the lean line of her torso. Kora stands just behind Joe’s right shoulder, surveying the immediate area, alert and watchful.
[Joe War Handed] Joe’s heavy jaw swings to the left. Scent and certainty tell him exactly where the Skald is.. instinct tells him to be between the honored one and the enemy. Simple, clean, direct. What isn’t so simple is the strange addiction that curls in his chest. Demands more blood. To vent more hate.
His eyes remain on the distant mound of earth.
“See any’tin?”
[Joe War Handed] (or uh… right. swings to the right.)
[waking dream] Joe and Kora are on the kerb, surveying the suspicious patch of earth, and the truth is this: Lila is of Joe’s mind. Perplexed. People are disappearing when they try to touch what will be green again in Spring. Have the Scouts spoken to Paul? Or one of the other garou? Iona is joining them and so is Rory, fox’s ahroun and Prerun’s ragabash both quiet and well-aquainted with shadows. The (fostern) galliard joins the Fenrir, whistles for the Fiannas attention; when she has it, cants her head sideways, green eyes expressive. “Tongue Twister,” she says. “You’re with fox. Think you can go on ahead, stay unseen, play the part of scout?” And if Iona swerves, she’ll get more or less the same suggestion: Go on ahead. With a: then circle behind when we — being the non-stealthy ahroun and galliards — wander on in.
[Sorrow] “Naw.” Her hand are tucked into the front pockets of her worn jeans – just past the first knuckle, containment, that instinct, holding the self still and close. The negation is quiet, her presence just behind the ahroun warm, slender, solid. Then: Lila. Kora’s dark eyes cut sidelong to Lila, then rest – briefly, closely – on the other two Garou, all but unknown to her – briefly monitoring their reactions, nodding her own unspoken acceptance of Lila’s direction and shifting her stance, subtly wide, as her dark eyes swing back to the park, studying what she can see of the shadows.
[Banshee] Iona sees the others beginning to gather as well. When Waking Dream gives the suggestion, the Fianna nods. Then activates Blur of the Milky Eye.
((Man 6 + Stealth 6 = Diff
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 8)
[Null Moon] Whether they’re coming from the north, from the Caern itself, or whether they’re coming from within the South Side’s borders already, they find the community garden easily enough, and they find something that would cause most human beings to flee in terror. There are not a great deal of things that wouldn’t cause most human beings to flee in terror. Humans like to think themselves masters of their domains, that they can handle whatever comes at them since they can handle bill collectors and demanding, soul-draining occupations and the rigors of child-rearing, but in a world where werewolves are the monsters and the Wyrm is everywhere, humans aren’t equipped to handle a goddamned thing.
These five, these warriors, are.
As they approach the community garden, the angle at which they approach will dictate what they see first. Those coming from the south won’t see a damned thing until they come abreast of the canvas-covered fencing; those coming from the north will see a bulldozer and what look like thrashing vines lifting into the air and falling down again. Those who come from the west, though.
Those who come from the west understand immediately what the threat is.
Parked in the southeast corner of what must be a majestic and beautiful garden in the midst of summer is what looks like a normal if disrupted patch of grass, complete with shoots and weeds scattered about its surface, with upturned partitions of earth around it; five long–about twenty feet so–vines, bedecked with fist-sized thorns, erupt from its epicenter, and swing wildly at the air, attempting to grapple the creatures that are standing just beyond their reach taunting them. The Garou might even miss the creatures at first if they are distracted by the striking vines.
There are five figures standing twenty-one feet away from the patch of earth, just beyond the reach of its vines; some of them have claws; some of them have extra arms; some of them look perfectly normal. For the most part, they look humanoid. Hideous, bedecked with powers granted to them by an unholy source, but humanoid. Those of them who have seen battle in this city before know them for what they are: the Wretched.
The vines are intently trying to grab the five tormentors, and the five creatures are too intently taunting the vines to notice that they have company. They certainly don’t notice when one of the gathered Gaians becomes little more than an impressionist’s blur.
[Tongue Twister] Lila. Lila of the music and the acceptance of the shy, quiet Ahroun, Lila of the suggestion that has a blush painting itself across Rory’s cheeks, spreading along pale skin.
“Tan cry?” Is what she says, an admittance that of the Bogeyman, she can try, but Rory is far from the sneakiest, even with the aid of Fox. But she is ever willing to do as asked or commanded.
And then she sees it, sees the vines, sees the ones taunting them, and looks again to Lila, as if to ask if scouting is still necessary…
[Banshee] Once Blur was active, she headed towards the direction in which the Fostern asked her to scout out. She came in from the west of course. And she saw the vines. She mentally grumbled in Irish to herself, and found a nice little hidey hole in which to continue spying from til orers were given.
[Null Moon] [Undergrowth]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7 (Failure at target 9)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Brown]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 8, 10 (Failure at target 9)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Blond]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 9)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Blue]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 6, 7, 8 (Failure at target 9)
[Null Moon] [Mr. White]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 8, 8, 8 (Botch x 1 at target 9)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Orange]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 9, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 9)
[Sorrow] The grass underfoot is dry and sere. There are still piles of melting snow where city workers have shoveled it aside with their snowblowers and little bobcats, to keep the jogging path free and clear for the students and office workers. The ground underfoot is still largely frozen, beneath top layer of spring mud. Kora is quiet as they walk through the dark park; quiet, but not stealthy. The scene soon resolves itself into a tableau from some Italian renaissance painting – something dark, excoriating – the middle panel of a triptych of the descent into the underworld or the wages of sin.
Kora closes her eyes; calls to something deep inside her – reaches for it.
[Joe War Handed] Joe’s eyes go wide and hard.. lids dropping open with the easy regard of a psychotic being told ‘no’. He stares at Waking Dream and remains motionless, letting the Child have her say… for now. Resisting the urge to charge in.. but only just.
A bloom of heat passes across Joe’s shoulders as Inspiration fuels the blood and minds of the other Garou- but Joe still doesn’t move. (rage spent for Inspiration)
[Sorrow] [Ancestors!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 8) [WP]
[waking dream] Then the (commotion [turmoil]) earth disgorges vines, erupts to clearly. Rory looks at Lila, as if to say, still? And Lila, narrowing her eyes in contemplation of the vines, the five wretched figures tormenting them into the stuff of nightmares, gives a slight shake of her head. “Look at that,” she says, and there’s something bright in her voice, something (simmeringly) golden, something close to amused: “We found the problem. There are five of them; five of us.” A brief pause. Maybe you think she’s going to say something honorable, like, let’s each go for one. Instead: “Two of us’ll take one on the end. Two of us’ll take one on the other end. Avoid the plant. Hopefully,” a glance, because she doesn’t see Iona anywhere, “The no moon will understand her cue. War Handed, she who offers sorrow, have anything to add?” This is where the Fenrir get their rousing cry before launching themselves into the fray.
And this is when the galliard becomes more than a girl with golden hair: a monster, the kind’ve wolf that prowls around the edges of [madness (nightmare)] with eyes as gray as the moon [storm], all lean muscle, all lethality. And this is when she calls on Luna, asks for her protection.
And this is where shit gets real.
[waking dream] [Luna’s Armor, please? Because this is righteous? -1 G. Stam+Hispo+Survival 2]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Null Moon] The two Galliards call upon different sources of protection and wisdom to help them in this battle. Kora taps so deep into the knowledge of her ancestors that she very nearly believes herself to be her ancestors; Lila, meanwhile, becomes absolutely swathed in Luna’s loving light, her skin practically glowing with the protection that she has called upon herself.
As Iona creeps across the snow-encrusted garden, one of the creatures’ heads turns slightly as if becoming aware of a crunching of grass or a cracking of a twig; a second one, however, turns around and looks straight at her, grinning a twisted grin that speaks of madness and disease, and then starts to…
… sing.
Only it isn’t a melodic, ear-pleasing song. This is warped, twisted, like listening to a Satanic verse played backwards. This isn’t Satanic, though. This is the very song of decay and corruption, and it goes straight through to their very spirits, attempting to corrode their connection to Gaia.
[Everyone roll WP diff 8.]
[Tongue Twister] [wp!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 8)
[Sorrow] [Willpower!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 6 (Botch x 1 at target 8)
[Banshee] ((WP roll))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 5, 7, 8 (Failure at target 8)
[waking dream] [WP!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 8)
[Joe War Handed] (wp- perm?)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 5, 5, 8 (Success x 1 at target 8)
[Banshee] ((So 1 with Inspiration))
[Null Moon] [Everyone except for Kora is okay. Kora, your Gnosis has just been halved.]
[Joe War Handed] (wp- resist pain)
Joe crouches, but the already monstrous lines of his homid form ripple into something far larger. The facade of man drops away with something like a sigh of relief. It boils into an insane snarl as Joe himself boils into an iron grey wolf nearly the size of a volkswagen. Good thing he’s kept a low profile.
We have far right. The song is as good a clarion as any- Joe begins to rush across the street.
[Tongue Twister] One of them… one of them starts to sing and Rory winces – but it’s nothing more than a tightening across her lips, a furrow of her brow, as she nods her understanding of Lila’s [glowing] instructions. She steps to her side, a slight ripple under her skin denoting eagerness to get in there, to do what she was born to do.
The only thing she was born to do.
Rage pulses at her temples, curls slender hands into fists, only to relax again and shake it off – and as Joe shifts forms and takes the right, the redhead shakes, and seems to shake her skin right off as she explodes into hispo, fur as red as her kinked curls in homid, and she follows her lead.
[Banshee] As Iona shifts to CRINOS, she howls out in rage. The howl is unlike any howl most give. It’s eerie, almost scary in a way, as it sounds of sorrow and loneliness. A Banshee’s wail screams through the night as she shifted, and finally, to finish it, the war axe seems to emerge from the strange tattoo around her left forearm. Gleaming in the given light of the night.
The Fianna takes a defensive stance, ready to take on the enemy as she snarls at them. No Perun to call upon, so she will have to use all her might in this one.
[Sorrow] This is where the Fenrir get to cry their rousing battle cry: but the battle is already in their blood and bones. Kora’s eyes gleam in the pale light – until the crawling black-ash voice of the beat ahead insinuates itself under her skin, tucks dark tendrils somewhere between the flesh of her body and the spirit-thing that walks inside her. That is a kind of ache, deep, insinuating – breathless.
Then her tribesmate changes; the Skald offers Lila a fierce smile – all white even teeth and then – then just all teeth as she turns and launches herself in Joe’s wake, her body changing mid-stride before she folds herself onto the ground and charges after him, Death to Jormungandr – little more than a low snark from her lupine throat.
[1 WP – Resist Pain]
[Sorrow] init: +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6
[Tongue Twister] [inits! +8]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6
[Joe War Handed] Joe’s answer is the battering of clawed paws against the ground, and an eager, gleeful chuff-chuff-CHUFF as he pounds across the street.
9+
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10
[waking dream] init + 8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4
[Banshee] ((6))
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8
[Null Moon] [Undergrowth, +4]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3
[Null Moon] [Mr. Brown, +4]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9
[Null Moon] [Mr. Blue, +4]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7
[Null Moon] [Mr. Blond, +7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2
[Null Moon] [Mr. White, +6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8
[Tongue Twister] [reoll! +8]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2
[Null Moon] [Mr. Orange, +5]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4
[Sorrow] +8!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7
[Null Moon] [ROUND ONE — FIGHT
Joe: 19
Kora: 14
Rory: 14
Iona: 14
Mr. White: 14
Mr. Brown: 13
Lila: 12
Mr. Blue: 11
Mr. Blond: 9
Mr. Orange: 9
Undergrowth: 7
Declare in reverse order. Remember, declares within 3 minutes or you’re assumed to be pulling a Charlie, rolls within 2 or I roll for you. Go go go go!]
[Null Moon] [Undergrowth
1: Grapple Mr. White
Mr. Orange
1a: Claw Joe.
1b: Claw Joe.
Mr. Blond
1a: Claw Joe.
1b: Claw Joe.
Mr. Blue
1a: Claw Joe.
1b: Claw Joe.]
[Null Moon] [Correction: Mr. Blond is biting.]
[waking dream] [Lila: 1a. Bite Mr. Orange
2a. Bite Mr. Orange.
1R: Bite Mr. Blond.]
[Null Moon] [Mr. Brown
1a: Claw Rory.
1b: Claw Rory.
Mr. White
1a: Bite Iona.
1b: Bite Iona.]
[Banshee] 1a) War axe – slash Brown
1b) again
[Tongue Twister] Someone always questions, though rarely aloud. Why does the Fianna not fight in her breed form? She gives no answer, no indication that she would even think to do so. Instead, she simply charges, all hispo jaw and snapping teeth…
[Declare! spend 2 rage, split first action – on Mr. Brown until he falls, than Mr. Blonde
1a. BITE
1b. BITE
1R. BITE
2R. BITE – shocking, isn’t it?]
[Sorrow] [Rage: 2. Split first action: Mr. Orange ’til he falls, then Mr. Blond.
1a. BITE; 2a. BITE; Rage 1. BITE; 2. BITE.]
[Joe War Handed] 1a: bite Mr. Orange
1b: close with Mr. Blue
1c: Bite Mr. Blue
1r: bite blue
[Joe War Handed] (bite: brawl 3 dex6=9-3=6 diff 5)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 5)
[Joe War Handed] damage: str7+2 teeth
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Orange
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Joe War Handed] (5 dice, change action for +1 diff)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Joe War Handed] damage: 9+2 sux
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Orange
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Sorrow] 1a. (Bite! Dex, Hispo, Brawl, Ancestors -1)
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5)
[Sorrow] Damage Mr. Orange Strength +2 bite + sux
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Orange
Nooooo I want to liiiiive!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Sorrow] BITE Mr. Blond! all that, -3 this time.
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 9 (Failure at target 5)
[Sorrow] First split:
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 5)
[Sorrow]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Tongue Twister] 1a: Mr. Brown
split 1: Dex + Brawl + Hispo = 3+4+2 = 9 -2 for split = 7 diff 5 – reroll 10s
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5)
[Tongue Twister] Str + Hispo + Bite + (suxx-1) = 4+3+2 = 9 + 2
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Brown
Soak: Stamina +3 (Hide of the Wyrm)]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Tongue Twister] Come on Kahseeno – yer embarrassing me here! BITE BROWN DAMMIT!
split 2: Dex + Brawl + Hispo = 3+4+2 = 9 -3 for split = 6 diff 5 – reroll 10s
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 5)
[Tongue Twister] Very funny.
Str + Hispo + Bite + (suxx-1) = 4+3+2 = 9
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 5, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Brown
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Banshee] 1a) Slash with War Axe Mr Brown
Dex 4 + Melee 2 – 2 split = Diff 7
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)
[Banshee] Damage
Str 7 + 3 + 1 suxx
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Brown
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Banshee] 1a) Slash with War Axe Mr Brown
Dex 4 + Melee 2 – 3 split = Diff 7
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Banshee] Damage
Str 7 + 3 + 0 suxx
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Brown
Nooo I want to liiive!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. White
1a: Brawl+Dexterity: Bite Iona! -2 pool (split).]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5)
[Null Moon] [Damage: Strength +2 (bite) +3 (suxx).] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Banshee] Soak
Stam 7
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. White
1b: Brawl+Dexterity: Bite Iona! -3 pool (split).]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 5 at target 5)
[Null Moon] [Damage: Strength +2 (bite) +4 (suxx) +1 (I forgot it on the last roll!)] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Banshee] Soak
Stam 7
Come on, Baby!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[waking dream] [1a. Bite Blonde! Dex3+3(H)+Brawl3 -2 split.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)
[waking dream] [Dmg: str2+3(H)+2suxx]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Blond
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 8 (Failure at target 6)
[waking dream] […soak? 3+3(H)+6(LA)]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 5, 6, 6, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[waking dream] [dmg?]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[waking dream] [1b. Ack, ew, gross, yuck, BLAH, EW EW EW. CLAW instead! same dice pool. -3 for split +1 diff. +wp, you taste bad.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]
[waking dream] [dmg 2+3+4]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Blue
1a: Brawl+Dexterity: Claw Joe! -2 pool (split).]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 4, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Damage: Strength +1 (claw) +2 (suxx).] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Joe War Handed]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 5, 5, 7, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Blue
1b: Brawl+Dexterity: Claw Joe! -3 pool (split).]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Joe War Handed]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 6, 6, 7, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Blond
1a: Brawl+Dexterity: Bite Joe! -3 pool (split/wound penalties).]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)
[Null Moon] [Damage: Strength +2 (bite) +2 (suxx).] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Joe War Handed] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Blond
1b: Brawl+Dexterity: Bite Joe! -4 pool (split/wound penalties).]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 5) [WP]
[Null Moon] [Uh, guess who hit the wrong button?]
[Null Moon] [Mr. Blond
1b: Brawl+Dexterity: Bite Joe! -4 pool (split/wound penalties).]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6 (Success x 1 at target 5) [WP]
[Null Moon] [Damage: Strength +2 (bite) +0] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Joe War Handed] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 4, 5, 6, 9 (Failure at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Undergrowth
1: Brawl+Dexterity: Grapple Mr. White]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Undergrowth
Strength]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 2, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. White
Strength]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Forgot a die for Undergrowth.]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Joe War Handed] rage: bite the hell out of blue.
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5)
[Joe War Handed] damage: 4sux+7str+2 dice=13
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 7, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Blue
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Joe War Handed] rage: same- bite blue
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 6, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5)
[Sorrow] Rage: CLAW Blond. +1 dif for changing action.
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 6, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 7)
[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 5, 5, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Blond
Nooo I want to liiive!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Sorrow] Rage 2: CLAW Blond +1 dif for action change.
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 7)
[Sorrow] Damage:
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Blond
Nooooo…]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Tongue Twister] Rage 1: Really. BITE DA SMURF LIKE YA MEAN IT!
Dex + Brawl + Hispo = 3+4+2= 9 diff 5 – reroll 10s
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 5)
[Tongue Twister] Str + Hispo + Bite + (suxx-1) = 4+3+2 = 9 + 4
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 5, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Failure at target 6)
[Tongue Twister] OH COME ON! STOP BEING A BITCH KAHSEENO!
Dex + Brawl + Hispo = 3+4+2= 9 diff 5 – reroll 10s
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 5) [WP] Re-rolls: 1
[Tongue Twister] DO NOT BE A BITCH!
Str + Hispo + Bite + (suxx-1) = 4+3+2 = 9 + 6
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Blue
Holy shit!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[waking dream] [R1: Bitechoo! 3+2+3]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 5, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 5)
[Null Moon] [Lila
Damage: Strength +3 (Hispo) +2 (bite) +5 (suxx).] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)
[Null Moon] [Mr. Blue
Nooo I want to liiive!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 7 at target 6)
[Null Moon] The compact male Fenrir is the fastest of the congregated Garou, and he reaches the fray before any of them do, teeth gnashing and eyes glaring with primal hatred. His first bite grazes the flesh of the demon-voiced Fomor, but the second tears his left arm clean from the socket, leaving an empty shirt sleeve dangling in the breeze. The Fomor screams in what sounds akin to terror, and turns to run.
Right into she who offers sorrow’s jaws.
His head bounces away into the night air, blood gushing like a geyser as his body stands in place for several seconds, as though it hasn’t quite registered what has happened, and then it falls to its knees, ultimately slumping in the grass at the female Fenrir’s great Hispo paws. She turns to bite his fanged companion, but her jaws find empty air.
The Fiann metis charges towards one of the scaly-skinned Fomori, her teeth scraping at his skin and drawing miniscule streams of blood. The Ragabash has greater success with her battle axe, zipping it through the air to lop off the creature’s legs at the knees, dropping him to the ground before cleaving his skull into two distinct mirror-image halves. His companion bares his gleaming, razor sharp fangs before launching himself at the nine-foot tall creature. At first he just manages to deposit two dime-sized puncture marks on her thigh, but the second bite tears a hole in her abdomen from hip to hip, exposed muscle fascia and fat gleaming in the moonlight.
Waking Dream turns to bite the fanged Fomor to the west, and finds her mouth filling with the acrid taste of poison as her teeth pop several gelatinous tumors hidden beneath the creature’s t-shirt. He cackles with delight, but the Galliard is smart enough not to bite him again, even if her claws find nothing but air when they swoop towards him.
Another of the scaly-hided creatures squares off against War-Handed, both times failing to do so much as shave fur from his body. His fanged companion, though, tears open a grim grin in the side of the Fenrir’s neck, spilling more blood onto the already saturated grass.
What happens next may very well explain what has been happening to the humans who have been attempting to tear up what’s left of the Wyld in this neighborhood: one twenty-foot, barbed vine whooshes through the air to grab one of the distracted Fomori, wrapping around his midsection and wrestling with him for a brief moment. Blood wells from where his body is punctured, and with a piercing scream, he is pulled down into the thawed earth, the dirt falling in place to cover him completely. That is the last they see of him.
In a matter of seconds, the five Garou tear through the remaining two Fomori. War-Handed repays the fanged Fomor’s buddy by tearing a chunk out of his neck, while she who offers sorrow learns from the higher-ranked Galliard’s misstep and claws, once and then again, the fanged blond Fomor. He falls to the ground in a bloody heap, intestines spilling out onto his tennis shoes and throat turned into a mouth before his light goes out.
The Fiann and the Child of Gaia both turn on the last remaining Fomor, but he seems to be blessed by the Corrupter himself: he has only a few scratches where bite scraped his flesh to show for his troubles, but something dawns on him: he is outnumbered five to one. Wide, stupid eyes dart back and forth for a moment, and then he starts to sprint towards the open road.
Meanwhile, the vines retract, satisfied that the land is safe for now.
[Joe War Handed] Blood still hot and boiling across the whites of chilling blue eyes, Joe falls on the Fomor like a meteor- all force and no restraint. For a moment the fading screams of battle are replaced with the wet crackling of savaged bones and a distant, thunderous rumbling from deep in Joe’s chest.
As the battle- mist clears from War Handed’s eyes, his attention swings immediately to Kora. A questioning chuff sprays blood from his nostrils, and Joe’s bloody jaws drop open happily when it becomes clear Kora is just fine.
…the rest he spares only a glance before looking to where the plant had disappeared. Curiosity flickers in his warlike face.
[Tongue Twister] They fall, one by one, and Joe finishes off the last of them. Rory, meanwhile, stands between her injured tribemate and the others, ready for anyone, anything else to come after them. Only when it is clear they will not, do hackles smooth, and the low snarling growl subside.
She watches the vines subside their attack, having taken one of the fomor with it, and tips her head, curiously.
[Banshee] The bite in her thigh was nothing. But having her abdomen gutted from side to side, well, she wasn’t all too happy. Now was one of those times she wished she had grabbed a couple of talens from the pack chest of goodies.
Holding her hand over her abdomen, she looked to Joe in her Crinos form, high tongue heard upon the wind. ~Do we need tae cleanse tha area? O’ something else?~
[Joe War Handed] Joe’s formidable form flexes and postures in response to Banshee.
Need to push the corruption for the roots to take and hide it.
He swings his muzzle to indicate the bodies.
Then bring Crescent-Moon to see to the Vines. Teach them to fight smart- so Man doesn’t come with more machines and kill them.
[waking dream] The creature stays hispo-formed for long enough to scent the air, assure herself that, beyond the fomori who is racing away, who is, even now, being brought down by the full moon fenrir, there is noone near enough to see what just happened, no corruption [decay (human)] that would tell of bodies buried, of new foes in the offing. When that is done, she re-shapes herself, shiftshapes, from a form created to be savagery to a form created to be (loved) useful and clever and build cities. Her eyes, also, turn to the patch of earth where the vines disappeared, but not before she studies each of the other garou. They’re hurt, but not badly.
Still. She is [vibrant, right now; humming with energy] compelled to offer: “War Handed, Banshee, if your wounds need tending, come to me.” The fianna ragabash asks a question, and Lila says: “Do you have the rite? Cleanse the trophies. You,” whoever, “check out the rest of the park. Just in case. You,” whoever. “Stay. I’ll fetch a crescent moon.” And she’ll wait long enough for Iona and Joe to say a scratch, a scratch, and then the galliard’ll head off. Theurge, baby.
[Banshee] She nodded slowly and shifted down to Hispo atleast to get the bleeding to stop. Her paw laid upon her war axe that was sunk into Mr brown, and it eemed to liquify and disappear into Banshee’s left leg.
~HT~ Then I be stayin’ here an’ waiting tae make sure nae mo’ be getting hurt. Her Irish tongue strong even in the ancient language.
[Banshee] Iona looked to Waking Dream. ~HT~ Tis buh a scratch! She seemed to snicker a bit, even though she was hurting. Then she moved to the trophies, pulling them in close to begin the Rite of Cleansing on them.
[Tongue Twister] She listens, as orders are given, and then nods at the first of the ‘yous’ and once she shifts back to monkey skin, she heads out at an run to check out the rest of the park.
Just in case.
[Sorrow] Sorrow tramples through the muddy ground, charges, snapping, after the fleeing fomori. There’s a deeper resonance to her snarl than one might expect – the shadow of her ancestors evident in the hispowolf’s feral yellow eyes – some ancient modi, perhaps, livid beneath her skin. The creature shakes off the blood – takes pleasure in the physical gesture, which starts with her massive, wedge-shaped head and ends with her iron-gray tail, then huffs and snorts to free her nose and mouth of the faint twinge of acid that lingers – acrid – in the air in the wake of the burst tumors.
The beast circles, snuffing War-Handed’s wounds, assessing them – shouldering him with the beastmind’s familiarity, the promise of pack written into the Fenrir’s physicality, her feral body language. Waking Dream shifts – the beast’s gleaming eyes are banked, watching, listening – content to remain in her warform as the pair of Fenrir stand guard, awaiting the Gaian’s return.
[Blood Summons] Nobody asks her where she’s going to find a Theurge on such short notice. They must be assuming that she’s going to go fetch Banshee’s packmate from Room 3, or perhaps fetch the little Fury teenager from where she is alone in Room 9 that she used to share with two other vengeful young women. In the amount of time it takes for the rest of the Garou to gather up the parts and pieces of their triumphs, to strike to fire a willow branch and cleanse the area of the corruption and taint that was clinging to the wretched creatures’ bodies, to establish that there is no one else in this open garden and not many people driving past in the night, Lila goes and comes back.
When she comes back, she is not alone, and she does not have a familiar person with her. The male whose height eclipses the small Galliard’s has a loose-jointed gait, is dressed in combat boots and black jeans and a black button-up shirt, gray newsboy cap, no jacket despite the fact that it’s still the middle of goddamn winter. His Rage is high for a Theurge–not for a Fenrir, naturally, but there is nothing that immediately pegs him as a Fenrir–but his ability to control it is unparalleled. It barely blips on the radars of those who have the ability to recognize it for what it is. He’s not smoking tonight. One of his hands is pushed into the pocket of his jeans and the other totes a black gym bag as they come upon the scene.
A low whistle leaves the stranger’s lips as he surveys the bloody mess that’s been made of the community garden, and a rumble follows from the depths of his lean chest. He pulls his right hand out of his pocket to rub at the back of his neck, and he eyes the motley crew of survivors with blue eyes that seem silver in the darkness.
With one of them in her war form, that must be the sign he needs to speak freely and explain who the hell he is.
“Blood Summons,” he tells them, dropping his bag on the sidewalk. “Fostern Godi. Wind just blew me in. Where’s this pesky plant Waking Dream was telling me about?”
[Blood Summons] [Uh, tack a “-yuf” onto the poor girl’s name, would ya?]
[Banshee] In the time it took Waking Dream to find a Theurge and return, Iona has shifted once more. This time to Glabro. And she had complete the Cleansing Rite on the fallen fomor. When she was done with that, she had pulled off her jacket, and hoodie, and then used her tee to bandage her stomach wound. Then she sat and waited til the theurge came.
When Blood Summons arrives, she looks to the Godi, and tilts her head. Then she pointed to where she saw the plant disappear to.
[Tongue Twister] While Lila searches for the Theurge, finds and brings him back, Rory had made a circuit of the park, loping easily, tirelessly through the area to ensure there were no more baddies hanging about…
[even if a teeny tiny part of her hoped there was… she thrums with frustration in teeth that found no purchase, in the promise of battle that was over quickly, efficiently, and far too soon for one with the amount of rage she carries]
…and found all to be quiet. When she returns, it is to help finish any remaining cleanup, until Lila and the Theurge arrive.
Another Fenrir.
Rory is off to the side, not interrupting, and utterly silent, as she studies Blood Summons from under the cascade of blood-red curls, dusty lashes. She twists her hands briefly, then shoves them into her pockets, as she sinks to a crouch, and listens. Observes. Learns.
[…hides…]
[Joe War Handed] Joe’s brutish face tilts in surprise as Blood Summons introduces himself. Battered Doc Martens crunch in the disturbed ground as Joe moves a pace out of the pool of shadows he’d been lounging in. The skinhead uniform may be dressed down before he’d come to Chicago, but narrow red suspenders dangle under a XXL flight jacket, leaving little question in the eyes of the streetwise.
Rather than interrupt one who gazes regularly into the Well of Ymir, Joe simply shows himself to the Fostern and crouches. Apparently well schooled. A Forseti wants your name and deeds up front.. a Godi will yank them out of your mouth when he’s good and ready.
Surprise doesn’t stop him from casting a speculative glance to Kora… before his eyes return to Blood Summons.
“Its undah th’ doyt ovah theah, Blood Summons-rhya”
The respect with which he addresses the other Fenrir is a stark contrast to Joe’s usual demeanor.
[Sorrow] The immediate danger past, the necessary rites completed, Sorrow – sits back on her haunches, walks her forepaws forward, lays low, enjoying what remains of the sun’s warmth in the rapidly cooling earth. With the sound of footsteps through the darkened park, however, she surges back to her four paws, claws digging into the slick mud for purchase, ready, waiting – until Lila’s familiar scent twined with another – stranger’s scent – reassures her and she sits back once more.
The beast’s head swings from Lila to Blood Summons when they have closed the distance. He speaks. She does not bark back at him, though – choosing to shift back to her humanskin at last, the great mass of her body expanding into Crinos, then contracting rapidly until she is just a blond woman, crouched forward, boots planted in the mud, her weight braced forward on her right hand. Kora straightens, shakes her hair out again, an echo of the shake she gave her great body after the short and brutal work of the fight, pulling her clothes to rights around her narrow torso as she does so. There’s a moment there where she returns Joe’s look, her dark eyes catching the ambient light, gleaming.
“Here,” the Fenrir woman says, echoing Joe, stepping back to allow the Godi better access to the place in question, ” –rhya.”
[waking dream] Lila’d given Blood Summons a brief (simple [eloquent]) account of the what happened on the way over. Who and how. What and then the question: why? Blood Summons already knows that Lila is a questioning sort of galliard, but she’d been spare with her questions on the way over, and now? Let the cliaths reply. She smiles, briefly [spark], when Joe and Kora answer, Banshee points, although the smile fades when her regard fastens on quietsilent Rory, off to the side, omegaing herself. Her hands are in her pockets, and she seems (alive [simmer]) particularly self-contained. No need to say a word now, hm? Use them when they should be used.
[Blood Summons] [Occult+Perception: For Shits And Giggles.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7) [WP]
[Blood Summons] The array of answers he gets as to where the plant is has him huffing out a breath of laughter. It’s almost as though he isn’t used to being referred to as -rhya, as though the novelty of it hasn’t quite worn off yet. It still has a lustrous sheen, his rank does, though no one here knows that. No one here even knows who the hell he is, just his name and rank and auspice, his tribe by association. They know that he knows the Fostern Galliard. They know that he seems to have his shit together and know what it is he’s dealing with as he paces across the battlefield, combat boots squishing through bloody late-winter grass and eyes briefly flicking to the crouching Fiann, eyes briefly glinting with what seems like a question before he looks away again.
The vines, curled in on themselves and in a state of repose now that the Fomori are gone, twitch as he comes near. None of them lie so that they obscure the largest shoot that comes out of the center of the undergrowth; that has full view of the rest of the park, and it’s before the shoot that the Godi, with his haggard face and his rangy limbs, crouches. He is not trying to make himself appear smaller, though. He’s trying to study the entity, figure out what it is, what it wants.
There’s a moment of contemplation, and then he’s springing to his feet away, backpedaling away from the thing as though realization has hit him in the chest like one of those barbed vines. One of the vines snakes after him, and once he’s gotten himself out of grasping range, he coughs and turns back to the other Garou.
“I heard a Wendigo talkin’ ’bout this stuff down in Mississippi,” he says. “Called it Undergrowth. It’s Wyld-enhanced, comes from regular grass, just grows into this nasty-looking stuff overnight so it can jack up attempts to taint the land.”
He looks towards the bulldozer along the eastern wall of the garden. Two of the vines are still entwined in its underbelly; they seem content there.
“Usually they take off once they wreck all the equipment in the area and then move on.”
He reaches into his pocket now, pulling something small and green and reflective out into the cloudy night air and regarding it for several seconds in an attempt to cross over.
[Gnosis: Whee! -1 diff (reflective stuff!)]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 5)
[Tongue Twister] Lila looks at her first, and Rory offers her a shy grin, as she wraps her arms around her knees, and watches. She is, indeed, the omega here, though she is pack to none of those present. She does not seem to mind, or inclined to fight the observation, either.
When the other Fostern looks at her though, his gaze lingering for a brief moment, questioning, she ducks her head, drops her eyes, and is instantly submissive, not only in stance, but entire demeanor. She does not look up again until his gaze moves on, until he approaches the plant. At that time, she resumes watching, quietly.
[Banshee] Once Blood Summons seems to have things under control and understanding, she looked to Joe. “Ima gone head home tae heal up. Ye be needin’ anything befo’ I leave?”
[Banshee] ((I MEAN LILA!! NOT JOE!))
[waking dream] [Aw, I wanna see (again) what you do ! Do I Cross Over, Too, Roll in Advance Of Post. -1 shine-y mirror-y thing! and -1G for earlier L.A.?]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 8 (Success x 2 at target 5) [WP]
[Sorrow] [Gnosis/2 + shiny + WP]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 5 (Success x 1 at target 5) [WP]
[Joe War Handed] “Fuck!” The word is a breathy burst as Joe fumbles quickly through his pockets. They’re all leaving, and he’s going to miss it all.
Soon enough inspiration hits. he pulls his flight jacket far enough to the side that he can fix his eyes on the near- mirror sheen of one ancient looking armband. At first the thing mutters and gleams in a dark sort of humor, taunting the young Modi.
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 10 (Success x 1 at target 5) [WP]
[waking dream] “Nope. Head back. Feel better.” Feel better. As if wounds were just a tickle in the throat. “But one or the other of you — take,” an eloquent gesture, encompassing the cleansed monstrosities, “back to the caern.”
Blood Summons takes out that piece of green glass, again. Lila echoes him, but rather than a piece of glass, she has a compact, which she unsnaps: Her reflection is so clear, so sharp, that it has to be a man-tempered thing, for sight so clear is not something that happens very often in nature [luminous (stillness: a blessing, not a right)].
And she melts away when he does.
[Tongue Twister] One by one, they all pop over. Rory scoots a little closer to the vines, but out of reach – and then…
Watches. Guards.
Her curiosity near gets the best of her, but she stands her ground, fingers twitching, at a loss without something to occupy them, but she clasps them together, rests her chin on her knees, and waits.
[Sorrow] Sorrow does not wish to remain behind. She straightens, wipes the mud from her fingers onto the worn thighs of her old jeans, stands back – watching – then sinks into a crouch mirroring Blood Summons’ physical posture as he looks, jumping back when the vine lashes out at him. She chuffs a sound, back of the throat – oddly feral, the noise, in her humanskin, and pulls out – like the rest – a piece of mirror, from the front pocket, pushing herself through the tangled web of the gauntlet here by the force of will alone.
[Banshee] A nod is given before Waking Dream disappears across the Umbra. She collects some trophies from the fomor she cleansed. Th rest are painfully loaded into the back of her truck, and covered with a tarp to be disposed of later. Then she climbs into her truck and takes off.
[waking dream] [curtain falls]
[waking dream] [credits roll]
[Blood Summons] [BRAVO]
[Sorrow] [throws roses!]