[Curata] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Lonna Larson] Jedd: ladida grapples are fun
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Lonna Larson] Lonna: want out now!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 4 (Botch x 1 at target 6)
[Lonna Larson] Jedd: squeeze! + 2 (because botching is not your friend)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Lonna Larson] Soak?
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 2 (Botch x 1 at target 6)
[Curata] Rage1 Bite on Hispo
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 6 at target 5) [WP]
[Curata] Bite Damage 8+2:hispo +3 Eagle’s Might +5 attack bonus
Dice Rolled:[ 18 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)
[Lonna Larson] OWW!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 9 (Failure at target 6)
[Lonna Larson] I want to liiiive!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 6, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)
[Curata] Rage2 Die, Fuckwad, and stay dead! bite
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 4, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5) [WP] Re-rolls: 3
[Lonna Larson] I love life!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 5, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Curata] Damage Bite 8+2: hispo +3 Eagle’s Might +4 Attack bonus
Dice Rolled:[ 17 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 10 at target 6)
[Lonna Larson] The fight is quick, but harsh. Curata springs into hispo, but then again, so does the thin man. he seems more exasperated than anything else. The male falls into scraggly hair and rotting, mildewed fur. He growls at Curata, who is quick to attack the Thin Man. The first hit rolls off of him as though it is nothing, and the second is one that is more than enough to take a lesser garou to his knees. The Fiann rips his arm from his body, sending the limb flying.
The blonde, however, struggles rather helplessly, finding that her out-be companion is more vice than man, squeezing tightly, pressing her hard against the brick wall. He pulls up, something snaps and she lets out a distinctly pained cry, something else sounds as though it cracks, but the blonde doesn’t manage to break free. She is simply stuck for the time being.
The fight wages on, a second bite sends the thin man to the ground before his own Rage pulls him back. His sternum snaps and the Fianna tears the spiral in two, quite literally, leaving nothing but a shell of a man with a blank, distant look in his eyes and a cigarette smoking nearby.
[Lonna Larson] Lonna Jo: stunned
Jedd: actions!
1a: toss kinfolk at Fianna (human projectile!)
1b: try and claw!
1c: try again!
[Curata] [Split actions:
1 catch Lonna?
2 bite Jedd
3 Bite Jedd again ]
[Curata] [Dex+athletics 9 -2 split: play catch the kin]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 7, 10 (Failure at target 7)
[Curata] [spend gnosis for fair fortune! Reroll on the catch!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 7 (Success x 2 at target 7) [WP]
[Curata] split2 Bite on Jedd 10 -3 split Bite specialty
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5)
[Curata] Damage 8+2 hispo +3 Eagle’s Might +2
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)
[Lonna Larson] oww, soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Curata] split3 10 -4 Bite
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 5, 7 (Success x 2 at target 5)
[Curata] Damage 8+2hispo +3 Eagle’s Might +1
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 9 at target 6)
[Lonna Larson] Soak?
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Lonna Larson] Jedd: incap
[Lonna Larson] The fomor, who is large and hulking, seems almost content to drop the blonde kinfolk, but instead takes a moment to fling the kinfolk at the infuriating Fianna. He throws, and maybe his aim is off, or maybe the wind was just right, but the throw doesn’t seem to injure either one, and the Fianna is able to manage getting her to the ground safely without really damaging the Child of Gaia any further.
He lunges, and his jaws have a hard time biting into his arm, though a chunk of flesh goes flying and hte fomor growls with pained delight. The second bite, however, goes for his too-thick neck, leaves him gasping for air. He bleeds, bleeds thick and oily blood and it falls to the ground. He collapses with a sickening thunk, unconscious and barely breathing.
The fight, as it seems, is over.
[Curata] Bloody spittle sprays from snapping jaws that seek out to tear off the arm of the bulky man that threatened the pretty blond. The other garou easily dispatched in a matter of seconds. Adrenaline and rage fueling through the Fianna as he killed the first one. The second took a bit of effort, bringing the man down into an unconscious state after managing to catch Lonna whilst she was flung at him.
He stands over the unconscious body, fur bristling along his back as the upper lip of a bloody muzzle peels back, exposing sharp fangs as he growls and drools on the man. His ears pinned back against his head, it takes a conscious effort to not tear the man’s throat out. The more human parts of his mind fighting for control over the savage instincts of the beast within.
For now he doesn’t kill the man, his thoughts become fleeting, blue eyes distant as his mind races over the strong connection of a pack mind to seek out others of his kind. There was a reason Joss has brought him over, something Eagle discovers every time the Ahroun’s calls upon his gifts to fight.
Gossling… wyrm attack. Two mooks, Spiral and human, injured Lonna. Alley. Eagle Turf. Need ye to assist. Please come.
[Joss] Gossling? It comes with laughter, though as she shakes her head, and instantly is on the move. She pulls a sweater over her head, gives her skirts a shake as she climbs off the bed, slides her feet into her sandals, and grabs her Godi bag. A quick check to see if she has everything she’ll need. On my way. I’ll bring Althea.
For body disposal, of course. She scoops up the little police car, and makes sure he’s behind her door when she closes it, so as not to have him search blindly for Imogen while she’s gone. She hits the stairs at a run, dreads flying, and grabs her keys off the shelf on the fly.
“Ready Althea?” The advantage of an awakened van – never need to wait while the engine warms up.
[Lonna Larson] She makes a small, whimpery noise once she gets the presence of mind and the force of will to start moving again. Sitting up is an effort, and she holds her right arm incredibly close to her body protectively. The blonde takes a second to reorient herself, to determine whether or not she needs to get up and run or if she can stay and the problem is actually over.
She pulls her coat a little closer to her body, which covers up lost buttons and what-have-you.
For now, however, she is silent. For now, the Child of Gaia takes a second, lets her mind wander to a place a little less in the hear and now and more in the elsewhere. She starts to stand, finally, and she’s shakey on her feet like a newborn doe. But, however, she doesn’t fall.
[Curata] Curata swings his great head around, casting blue eyes on Lonna as he pads away from the unconscious man, making his way over to her. He slides up behind her, using his body as support to help Lonna get to her feet, allowing her to lean on him if she needed to. He whines at her to get her attention, ears flicked back on a massive hispo head.
“Joss. come. help.” is growled out in a guttural speech not made for wolf throats.
[Joss] Althea’s eager as every, starting up like a dream, and Joss puts her into gear and heads toward the alley that currently holds her packmate, and a certain Child of Gaia kinfolk. She doesn’t ask questions – she doesn’t need to. They call, she answers. Simple as that.
It’s not far, and there’s no doubting which vehicle she’s in as she rounds the corner and closes the last bit of the distance – the distinctive paint job on her van is certainly enough to make her stand out. The interior, however, is built specifically to keep things hidden, under wraps. There’s almost always a method to her madness. Almost.
[Lonna Larson] She reached down, left hand tentatively on Fur. It was a familiar person, and while her pride told her many things, told her to stand on her own two feet, that she didn’t need to lean on anyone, her reason said differently, and instead she found herself leaning on the Fianna for support. She looks at him and offers half of an apologetic smile; pretty as ever, modest as ever, she didn’t take to keeping herself covered too well at that moment.
“Sorry,” she tells him, “I put on seven pounds, it’s Christmas.”
As though seven pounds really made a difference to the wolf beneath her.
[Curata] The Fianna in this form was bigger than a small pony almost. Whatever pressure she puts on him isn’t a bother to him. He remains perfectly still, his body thrumming underneath her touch, her weight. Powerful cords of muscle rippling under fur with the slightest of movements, he was a wolf in the prime of his life. Strong and virile. He had taken down two enemies in a matter of minutes and walked away without a scratch.
His head swings over one shoulder as the squeal of brakes and the rumbling of an engine announces the Godi-mobile. He doesn’t shift out of this form as of yet, waiting until Joss physically comes into view. He sniffs at the air, glancing away to the bodies and the unconscious man that he left alive, trying to smell for anything else.
[Joss] She parks, and leaves Althea running with a little pat to her dash, a little murmur of something just between them, before she’s hopping out of the car and heading into the alley.
Blue eyes sweep over the scene quickly, as she grins at Curata and Lonna. “You never let me have any fun, Curata.” She mock pouts, but heads directly to Lonna, to care for her first. She slips an arm around the girl, helping to steady her, so that Curata can take care of the one not yet dead.
And as she does, Lonna’ll feel the warm touch of the Mother flowing through her form.
[MT – intel+medicine d6-2 for Gaia’s breath]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 4 at target 4)
[Curata] His thoughts flicker over the totem bond he shares with the little Fenrir Godi, swishing his tail from side to side as he chuffs out in a soft snort in response to her pouting.
The men were trying to get some kind of information out Lonna, called her a cow, which meant they assumed she was a breeder. Threatened to send her to some place in Tennessee if she didn’t talk. Thin one is a Garou, Spiral… second human, maybe fomor. Kept him alive for questioning if ye wanted to do that.
[Lonna Larson] Its breathing is shallow, and it is more than content to gurgle in its own blood and cling to life for the inevitable end to come. There are others here, now, whatever had happened, this female had been in the right place at the right time because she had a small squadron of backup to come help her. The fomor gurgled out a growl, but nothing more came from its lips. Trachea torn, words were going to rasp at best.
Lonna looks at Joss, and she has known that she can trust this particular female. she relaxes for a moment, and is still holding her right arm close. A warmth passes over her, and she knows what this feel slike. She knows what’s just happened and the throbbing pain in her writ and her ribs subsides for now.
“Thanks,” she offers, but doesn’t say much after that. She is more-than-content to retreat a little further into the alleyway.
A pause
“Should I do anything?”
[Curata] “Want… kin…why?” again, words hard to form roll out of a bloody muzzle in the same guttural speech as before.
A flick of an ear, Curata is swinging his big head on Lonna. Again, for other reasons he hasn’t shifted out of his hispo form yet. The big bulky thing was on the verge of dying, choking on his bile and blood, but the wolf’s focus was the blond kin.
[Joss] She smiles at Lonna, only pulling away once she’s steady on her feet again. Her gaze drops to the wrist, making sure that it set correctly, that she’d mended it quickly enough before it pulled too far out of line. Satisfied, she winks at Lonna. “Anytime.” And when she asks if she can help, Joss nods to the van. “There’s some black garbage bags in the back. Can you grab them for me please?”
And then she turns to her packmate, her fingers running over his head, digging into the fur at his neck to ruffle in an affectionate caress. Tennessee huh? Nashville would be the center of something wyrmy – it is the Country Music capital of the world. Her amusement translates over the Wings of Eagle, as she moves toward the gurgling Fomor.
She sinks down to a crouch next to him, uncaring if her skirts collect blood and gore, her fingers reaching to grab him by the chin, and force him to look up at her – should he open his eyes at all. “Trying to take our kin? Big mistake, buddy. What’s your game?”
[Lonna Larson] “Fuck you,” he says. words equally hard to form, but mostly because of gurgling blood and vitriole. He knew he had a mission, or rather, maybe he was simply too dumb to realize when he had been outclassed. He tried to sit up, but found that movement was downright impossible at that moment. It was hard to intimidate the ignorant.
The blonde takes a second, and is more than content to walk away from what would more than likely be a rather gruesome sight. instead, finding trashbags sounded like a lovely idea.
[Curata] The sounds of Curata’s body shifting echoes in the backdrop of Joss interrogating the big man on the ground. Once he is in his human skin, he fishes through his back pocket, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe away the drying blood from his throat and mouth, turning his head to spit. He makes a face, watching Lonna move towards the van with an intense look brimming in his eyes.
Large hands pad down the inner pockets of his coat, pulling out a small flask, which he uncaps and takes a heavy pull from. The alcohol is swished around in his mouth, head turning to spit out blood and liquid again, he repeats this a few more times until he is certain the aftertaste is gone. He recaps the flask and slips it back into his coat.
“Bloody wanker, make me waste good ale.” He mutters, turning to walk after Lonna, “Ye dinnae answer me question, Lonna. Wha’ they want wi’ ye?”
[Joss] Fuck you, the fomore says, and she just sighs. “I’m a good girl. I don’t DO that.” She pushes him back down, and tips her head.
“I’ll give you one more try, and then you’re gonna meet the belly of my beast over there. Why are you after my kin?”
[Lonna Larson] She turns and looks at Curata from the van. She’s tossled, trying to keep most of her clothes on and she looked up at him. Mouth set, and quiet displeasure on her face. It was neither here nor there, and the blonde was weighing her options. She was also, as it turns out, looking for trashbags. They were easy enough to find; trashbags were the staple of a garou’s vehicular choices. The blonde Child of Gaia looked at Curata, and when she spoke, words were low and fast.
“Not me,” she says, “my address book. I know a lot of people in Chicago, and not just that? But I’ve met a lot of kinfolk and garou in a lot of states. Sons of Boar got around, and apparently, are still pissing people off.”
She sigh, and the sound is one of infinite displeasure. She shakes her head.
“Pack business,” he sneered at Joss. He was getting one last chance he got before Joss started to do something. Before she started pushing and prodding and making him wish that he had never done anything, “thought she might know where to find them again. Fuckers keep moving.”
[Joss] On last question then, as she leans over him, patting his cheek like one would an errant child.
“Goooooood boy. What Pack – and why her? Who sent you for her, specifically?”
Simple, these questions, though he knows, he can tell, her patience won’t last forever.
[Curata] He weighs what she says with some thought, his eyes dancing over her frame briefly. Curata begins to shrug out of his leather jacket, tossing it down on the floor of the van. Without much thought, he’s removing the outer layer of shirts that he’s wearing, a long sleeved thermal in black. He extends it out to her, the skin on his bare arms prickling with tiny bumps from the cold.
“Lonna, ‘ere.” he says, arm extended out with the offered shirt. A grey tank top wasn’t much to wear in this weather, but he didn’t seem to care at the moment. Once she has taken it, he grabs his jacket, handing it to her to put on as well. “And this, to keep ye warm.”
He takes the garbage bags from her so she can change. His tongue running along the back of his teeth as he looks away towards Joss, “They didn’t do anything else to ye did they?”
[Lonna Larson] “Them fuckers didn’t keep no kin but her, who else’s gonna know where th’ Sons went?” he looks at Joss, and he was searching for answers. Sadly, Joss’s patience wouldn’t last as long as the idiot’s memory would. He looked at her, searching for answers and things to say, “watchmen… Grak’tryoll, tha’s all I know.”
Insistent, this one.
She looks at Curata’s shirt, looking at him for a second. Her shirt is more-than-likely going to need to be tossed out, and she started to discard it for now. the blonde let it fall to the wayside and took a second to pull his shirt on instead. It was warm,but more importantly, it smelled like him. this was neither here nor there, though, and she found herself musing over the texture when she looked back at him.
the blonde took his coat, “you’re going to get sick,” she half mutters.
It’s the only thing she can think to say, “I’m fine, really.”
Insistent, this one.
[Joss] She tips her head, slightly, and nods. “Alright then. Anything else you’d like to say?”
A final chance, maybe. A romantic’s view of the world, the thought that everyone deserves some dignity. Even the enemy.
[Curata] He continues to hold the jacket out to her. Shaking his head as he looks down at the tall blond, “Nay, I’m a fucking werewolf I don’t catch colds, Lonna,” he growls out at her, “Put the bloody ‘ell, put the damn jacket on.”
His insistence comes at the price of his irritation, more worried about her welfare than his own.
[Lonna Larson] “Say I fought when y’tell the story,” he insists.
She looks at Curata, at his jacket, “but you’re going to draw attention if you’re walking around on the street in half a shirt. I’m fine, really, there’s nothing to worry about.”
She tried to be insistent, and she had been doing a pretty good job, though eventually, grudgingly, she puts his damned jacket on.
“You’re putting this back on when you have to go move the dead body bits.”
[Curata] “Yer arse is getting in the van and staying there whilst I finish the clean up.” It came out as an order, the gruff tone of voice expressing his concern for her as he turns away from Lonna. Garbage bags in hand and heads back to Joss to see how things were going. He doesn’t seem likely to change his mind on what she’ll be doing except staying out of the way.
[Joss] She chuckles softly. “Yeah. And then ya lost – like ya all will in the end.”
And with that, she reaches down to place her hands on both sides of his head, grasping for Eagle’s Strength, before she twists his head and snaps his neck cleanly.
She looks over the bodies then, and nods, and with a stretch, she stands and shifts herself, going to work dismembering the bodies quickly so that they can be put into the bags, for her to take to Imogen’s burning ground. Where she’ll cleans and burn them, making sure they’re disposed of completely.
When Curata arrives, she tells him what was said, so that he can question Lonna farther after they’re done.
[Ok – I gotta get up in 4.5 hours – so assume Joss hangs out, and cleans up and shows them how to stow the bodies in the van so she can do the cleansing burning. Thanks for inviting me in! :) ]