[Troopers] [disclaimer: Alright folks, I tend to roleplay more then roll play. So, this is totally my disclaimer on any screw ups. You may hit me with a nerf bat and correct me if I'm wrong. Also. I shall try not to kill your beloved characters.]
[Troopers] In the last few days there has been word on the street. Over the last week a few people have gone missing. None of them have been notable figures and only one received any sort of police involvement and investigation. For the most part its the vagabonds that are talking, its their gang members disappearing, their siblings, the homeless guy on the street that they valued because of his eyes and ears. It's causing an unease in a certain pocket of the neighbourhood.
It's not until yesterday that they got something more to go on then the talk through worried whispers. They had a location that people have started to avoid. An old brick building, long boarded up and closed down. It was once used as a typical corner shop with only a few businesses. The liquor store there simply got robbed too many times and the small grocers attached went out of business when paying bribes became more expensive then any income they were making, and through the constantly stolen stock and vandalism the family packed up and moved out.
The front of the building has several windows, with boards nailed down, the old doors covered by the metal shutter, dented and scratched, the padlocks long picked and broken. Around back fares no better. The dumpsters there are overfilled, leaving street rubbish splashed across the narrow back alley. Smaller, bathroom and office windows are broken, covered with metal bars with frames bolted into the brickwork. Back doors are still on the hinges, just barely. They've been long kicked in, the building raided, used by squatters that, now, won't come near the place.
The entire building is covered in graffiti, tagged with warnings in languages that only gangs and vice cops understand. Syringes can be found randomly dropped by the back walls. Broken bottles, too. Between the grime and the dirt, feet should tread carefully. Normally here, there's a few people hanging out, too young to be on the street, too drugged to go home. But for the last few days people avoid walking the same sidewalk.
[Sorrow] The whispers do it. The whispers, the way street life shifts around the building, moving with a sort-of ocean-rhythm around the obstacle, implacable. There are rumors and shifting mutations of rumors, a handful of which they have heard. One or the other of them spent stretches of the long afternoon into the evening watching the building, not obtrusively, just passing by when the rumors started. Cutting a path up and down the sidewalk, following the movement of the junkies and the dealers and the homeless and the streetlife around the boarded-up, broken-in, broken-down squat.
Now the sun has gone down. The air is still warm, but there's a bite of fall in the air. Tonight, bathed in the ugly orange of the sodium vapor street lights, Kora and Roman - Sorrow and Fate - circle closer, move like a pack, like predators, closer to the building than normal humans are willing to go. Sorrow runs her fingers over the corrugated metal shutters, lifts her dark eyes, looking up speculatively over the facade of the building, a neat, narrow little frown curving her generous mouth.
Slowly sinking to her haunches, she thumbs the over one of the broken padlocks, then nods to her packmate wordlessly.
They're going around back.
Picking their way through the trash, the discarded needles, the pooled filth, the dubious puddles that fill the pot holes in the broken asphalt. She steps carefully, avoiding the puddles, stretches to look in through the barred, broken windows, then finds the back door barely on its hinges. Leaning close, still, to listen, she cuts a look back at her packmate.
"It's like an invitation," she says of the broken door. Pulls it open, holding it - just - "Let's check it out." - she tells him with a tip of her head. "I want you to scout in there, but I'm going to be right behind you."
[Fate] Trash crackled underfoot, now and then a syringe casting broke beneath a well worn cowboy boot as he stepped through and over trash. Gray-blue eyes were hidden beneath the darker shadows of that ole summer weight straw stetson he wore. It was warm enough that he was in short sleeves, the shirt a lighter shade of denim than the deep dark blue, stiff legged, pressed crisp Wranglers. When they circled around back, he stopped the careless human gait he'd taken. Now he moved like the wolf, silent, graceful, a predator in each movement.
"Yessum, I'm gonna break off to the left first."
With that he reached for the gift of Blur, hoping the Goddess and Spirits smiled on him tonight and then slipped inside.
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 8) [WP]
[Fate] per+PU
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 6, 6, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Sorrow] Per + Primal-Urge
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Troopers] The smell of the narrow alley is to be expected. There's rotting rubbish out here, rain sodden old clothes, food containers, pizza boxes, days, months, half a year old. That the sun reaches the narrow alley only a few hours in a day, with the tall building and the back fence cutting off most angles, leaves the back bathed in plenty of shade. Its the perfect place for growing mold and rot.
Beneath it, they can both pick up the smell that is all too familiar to their senses - death. The scent that comes with bloated, rotting bodies, animal or otherwise. It's here, in the alleyway, likely stuffed under the rubbish, hidden from plain sight. Stepping inside has the scent stronger. Inside, where the humidity keeps the air stale, the smell is almost overwhelming. It's a wonder, then, why others have not picked up on it. Their senses are far greater then that of dull sensed mortals. Here, too, is the smell of old blood.
Stepping through the back door leads into a small hall. Directly to the left are two doors, left opened. One is a bathroom, another an office. They could guess as much by the shape of the window mounted high on the wall out the back. The former stinks, well used, neglected, the drainage likely broken. Not only the smell of old urine and backed up feces, but there too is the smell of rotting meat, the same found by a butchers drain, or by the eaten out carcass left in the field.
To their right is the dark shapes of empty shelves, some toppled. There's blankets here, nested in corners, left and forgotten. An old storage room had been taken over by squatters, now deserted by all but their left over trash and forgotten belongings. At the far end is the cold storage, the door partly left open. Even in the darkness they can pick up the trail of blood across the ground, patches over the floor, old, new - from a week to the night before.
Another set of doorway open up from this local storage room, to the front of the shop, the door is long gone, leaving only the dark shadow of the beyond.
[Sorrow] The scent of death - old and new - is familiar enough that it cannot, dos not turn her stomach. It is rotting, however, both ripe and wrong when mingled with the familiar effluvia of the back alley, sharper in the cool, still darkness of the interior. Roman goes left, hidden by his gift even from her sight. She follows two - three steps behind him, by sense as much as anything else, the tug-tug-tug of their shared bond, her feral sense of his presence, invariable, inevitable. They have been packmates long enough by now that she can anticipate when he will move, and she follows, still and quiet now. There's no banter. A place like this allows no room for jokes.
The stained, stopped up bathroom, the clotted toilet used well past the point of function - that does makes her stomach crawl up her esophagus, abruptly and almost entirely. Kora closes her eyes briefly, turns her head away, breathes shallowly through her mouth, feeling the scent of the place coating her tongue, swallowing hard, and harder, to hold down her gorge. A brief moment of tension - white-knuckled - is a silent stand-in for the curse she might otherwise have uttered over the reaction when she's past the bathroom.
They glance into the office, circle to the dark corners, soft-footed now, glancing out toward the front of the store. Both are drawn, though, inevitably to the blood trail leading toward the cold storage. Kora pauses, touches Roman briefly on the shoulder, nodding at the partially opened door. The plan is the same, and this is wordless. In the dark shadow of the deserted interior, she shifts, all the way through to her lupus form, swifter and more silent on soft paws. She nudges open the door with her nose, blocks it open with her body, waits for her scout to precede her, then follows right after him, her tail flat and alert, her eyes pricked, her eyes gleaming in the darkness.
[Fate] The smell of rotting death was sickly sweet in his nostrils. For once he was grateful to be in homid, that is until his Alpha shifted. He took a quick glance inside the bathroom. Hell it smelled better than a pig farm, though for some reason it reminded him of a pig wallow and a slaughter house combined. Then he was at the cold storage, following suit as he shifted down to lupus and slipped through the door and to the left again.
[Troopers] The cold storage unit isn't large. Just enough room to stock cold groceries for this corner shop, that, when functioning, had stocked a single wall of cold goods from drinks to a variety of frozen meals and goods. Its meant to be empty. It's not. They both know this the moment they are closer to the partially opened door, by the smell coming out of it. There is rotted things inside, but the moment they are in lupus forms, that extra keen sense picks up on the other. It's hard to place this scent. It's wet, filled with vitamins and nutrients, bloodied and raw. Fresh. Underlying it is a chemical smell that shouldn't be with such natural smells, nor should the sharp contrast of spoiled meats be in a similar location. Birth and death in the same quarter.
Inside, immediately, there is piles of dead. It's nothing like the warehouse operating theater. There are, at a guess, five bodies laying piled against the left wall, men mostly, a woman is in there, too. Legs broken, several missing an arm from a socket. Heads at odd angles, and each has a raw neck and shoulder area, where bloodless flesh look minced and torn. As for the blood, it's across the ground, but there's not a lot of it, only the trail from a little sloppy work. Most is found in the large bags in the opposite corner. For that's what they were --
Sacs. Mucas, bloodied, a rich food source, covering humanoid bodies. There are only two of them, but they are moving, ribs shifting under the semi transparent coating on their forms. Not dissimilar to a pup born in its own embryonic sac to be eaten and licked away by a mothers tongue and snout. Both lay prone on the ground, one facing the wall, the other outwards. They can see the slits of closed eyes, how the face is similar to that of a human. Hairless. Longer limbs. One is narrower then the other, but there is growing muscle tones. As they watch, one shifts an arm, the long fingers having the beginning of sharpened nails, thickening. It turns its head, slow, sluggish. A slight moment that ceases, like that in sleep.
[Fate] He froze and sent back across the link to Sorrow.
"I'll be danged. I think someone left a litter. Looks like a cross between a big ole cat and a dog that done did the nasty with a human."
He looked up to make sure nothing was over their heads in there. All for tossing a cocktail in the place and closing the door while roasting the things.
[Sorrow] Sorrow is two steps behind him, the chemical scent snds a lashing awareness through her feral frame, prickling her flesh, setting her fur to stand on end. She picks her way through the storage locker a few steps behind Fate, delicate on the bloodslicked floor, stepping around the piled corpses, the meals brought back by some parent to the nest for its embryonic young.
Kill them - the wolf says, quiet, quick and certain, mind-to-mind. They sleeping, shifting about in sleep, still. She's merciless. - and be wary for the parent. Like a bird bringing home worms to the nest. Big, to take this much prey. Drag it home in the darkness, scare away the thugs and the junkies, the whores and the pimps, the street people who live with every dark thing in the world looming over their shoulders, just out of sight.
Without hesistation, she lunges forward, snapping her jaws at one of the sleeping young, going inevitably, inexorably for the throat. The room is claustrophobic enough that she remains in lupus, baring her teeth in a silent snarl as she surges forward, expecting her packmate to follow her lead.
[Troopers] They wake. Too late. Too vulnerable to do anything about it, either. The sacs are thicker then they appear to be, strong enough to stop adult humans breaking through it when they move about. Sharp teeth break through it with nips, and warm fluids immediately slides out. There's not gushes off it, just enough to cover and moisturize, to breathe into lungs. The umbilical cord is self attached to the being inside, to a spot between the breasts, a small, subtle lump section from which the thin cord is attached. If they care to check, there are small differences between the two. The one that had been moving was more matured, its lump bigger, not any bigger then a golf ball, but noticable on an otherwise naked chest, and the cord is fatter and thicker. It's more fully formed, stronger looking, longer nails and limbs.
This one is the first to die. It does so mostly silently. Teeth find its slippery neck, the smell of it a strong newborn scent -- wrong by the way its tainted, the chemical smell much stronger, more suited to laboratory then found in an embryonic sac, but it stands out under the strong scents of blood. Surprisingly they find the skin tougher then it appears to be, having a thicker hide, even soaked in moisturizing fluid. When it's eyes open, they are large, the pupil lost in the faint swimming colour of a pink, as if it has a bad case of conjunctivitis. There's a gargle as fluid comes up the throat, as lungs now try and breathe air.
It takes effort to kill them. Not because the throats are torn out, but because they still continue to move, blood continues to pump. Limbs move, but jerking and sluggish like that of an uncoordinated newborn, confused and in no position to fight back. Even as their throats gape, the soft, sweet lump between their breasts, continues to throb, more frantic then.
[Fate] He was quick to spend WP for Resist pain because it had been his experience since coming to Chicago that nearly every damned thing he clawed, bit or dove in to, burned the hell out of him. He dove it, ripping through the sac and throat even as the panic lump went off, no doubt calling for help in some weird way. His head jerked sending a spray of blood and flesh out in a wide arc.
[Sorrow] Blood and fluid sprays from her maw. Kora tears out the throat of the humanoid and finds that it is merely a host, an eggsac itself, an incubator for something deeper inside. This time, her low snarl is audible, alert and alive.
Whatever is inside is coming out. she tells her packmate, her tail low with cautious, her hackles clearly standing on end, her ears alert. The communication is silent, her mind-voice more human, but edged with that animal undertone it takes from her form, her mind suffused in her feral senses, in the sharp rising instincts of a wolf seeking prey. drag them out. Then dig them out.
With a shake of her gray coat, she seizes the throat of her erstwhile prey, the more mature of the two bodies, in powerful jaws, begins dragging it toward the storage room, over the pile of gnawed corpses, wary of the throbbing - thing between the beast's breasts. When she has cleared the storage room - if she clears it before whatever is in wants to come out - she surges into the more feral of her warforms, filling the space huge and bristling. There is, briefly, an alert flick of her ear toward her packmate.
Then she sets her claws on the chest, and tears into the lump in the chest with a snarl.
[-1 WP Resist Pain!]
[Fate] His Alpha spoke and as soon as she dragged a sac-body out the door, he snapped up to Warform and tossed the other one out behind her, following a split second behind to begin stomping on the pulsing thing in the chest.
[Troopers] Prey is drug over the ground, slippery wet, still moving. Roman's is thrown out to land with a wet smack on the ground, with both of them following out quickly, moving to still the moving, pulsating lumps until they cease altogether - and when they do, the beings still.
Noise.
They weren't wrong. Maybe it was some sort of panic button or a parental intuition. Either way, they hear movement coming towards the storage unit from the doors leading out to the front of the shop. It's not loud movement, but their senses are sharp tonight, keenly aware of the dangers around them. The shift of air, and the brush of an empty tin can as its knocked to the ground, rolling.
Seconds later. One. Two. Three.
Like those in the bags, now lifeless on the floor, except these beings are mature. In the darkness of the back of the store, their eyes are no longer pink, but are an illuminating orange. Their hands have fully formed claws, not large like that of the Garou, but smaller, narrower, curved talons not an inch long. One bares its teeth, pointed, and from within the throat comes a strange sound that is no longer human, but nor is like that of an animal. A constricted hissing shriek, cut short as the mouth snaps. Aggressive.
They move unnervingly like a pack as they filter into the room, inhuman, supernaturally graceful - enough to rival a Garou. Their muscles under their long, lean limbs, corded rather then bulked. And all three's attention is on the two large beasts that have just murdered two of their own.
[Initiatives.]
[Fate] Init
+8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2
[Sorrow] Init: +9
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8
[Troopers] +1 Init: + 5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5
[Troopers] +2 Init: + 5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8
[Troopers] + 3 Init: + 5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4
[Troopers] declaring:
+3 grapple Roman
+1 bite Roman
[Fate] 1a claw +3
1b Bite +3
1r Claw +1
[Troopers] +2 claw kora.
R 1: bite kora.
[Sorrow] Kora: 1a. Bite! 1b. Bite! Rage 1: BITE. Rage 2: PLUS BITINGS.
Start with +2. Go to +3 if 2 goes down.
[Sorrow] 1a. -2
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 7, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Troopers] + 2 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 4, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Sorrow] 1b. -3!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 5) [WP]
[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Troopers] +2 stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Troopers] +2 Claw Kora
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Troopers] +2 damage
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Fate] 1a claw +3
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Fate] 1b Bite +3
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Fate] damn +3
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 9 at target 6)
[Troopers] + 3 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Troopers] + 3 grapple - special maneuver [break neck]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 9)
[Troopers] + damage
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Fate] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 bite
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 5, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 damage
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Fate] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Sorrow] Rage 1!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 5)
[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Troopers] +2 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 8, 8 (Failure at target 6)
[Troopers] +2
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 9, 10 (Failure at target 6)
[Fate] 1r Claw +1
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 7, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Sorrow] Rage 2:
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Troopers] +2 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 6, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Troopers] They launch into attack, over their bloodied, dead forms of their companions.
It's quick and brutal. Kora lashes out in her hispo form, biting with teeth larger then the beings fingers. Each hit true, tear through flesh and fill the air with sprayed blood. Skin is tough, leathery on the tongue, but it's still no match for the Get of Fenris, who rips out chunks of meat and flesh, down to bone. Still it moves. Striking back with claw and teeth, moving quicker then any ordinary being should. It lashes, soundless, and with the same violence in mind, but quickly finds itself slumping towards the ground, its torso and face nothing but chewed pieces and missing chunks.
Roman had lashed out first, hit home, swiping claws and teeth through hard muscle and flesh, made to withstand assaults but nothing so precise as the Weapons of Gaia. Her Child draws blood, grabs flesh with teeth and spits it out for the next bite. One of them, bleeding with gashes and gouges torn from its body, shows no signs of slowing, grabs the large crinos head in a vice grip of both arms, and even as teeth press into bleeding wounds, uses such strength that would tear a humans clear off its shoulders. Roman can feel the strain on his muscles, the tension in tendons, but breaks free.
He finishes it then. Tearing the face and throat off. Amazingly it still lives and breathes, nothing more then a walking, minced corpse. Warm, bleeding and incapable of registering pain or showing signs of slowing down. Through the raked gouges in its chest, a small organ pulses wildly, second to its heart.
The third, who's hide has been the strongest, faces off with Kora, baring the rows of pointed teeth.
[Troopers] [edit, faces off with Roman.]
[Fate] He was a bit too busy to stomp on that little beating thing in the chest this time. He bared his teeth at the thing facing off with him and cracked his neck as a reminder that this thing's buddy had tried to wring that neck and was unsuccessful. A low rumbling growl vibrated through his chest as he made a stomping motion just so this thing would remember the position he was in when they came in. Yep, in the middle of stomping on one of the others when caught.
[Sorrow] There is something elegant about this eruption of violence. Their movements are balletic in their speed and strength. Turn off the sound, the snarl of challenge from the Fenrir, the grunt and whump as one huge body impacts another, the scrabble of claws on the floor - turn it off, all of it, the blood and brutality, the arterial spray, this fantic, immediate alertness - make it movement, bodies in impossible motion -
- except that it cannot be turned off. Sorrow tears into the first, more alive in battle, her tripping heart, her pounding pulse, her rage unleashed in the rawness, the uncertainty, the fractional-second dilation of time that happens in battle. She ends one thing, its leathery skin, its inhuman speed, tearing it apart, then turns with a snarl, moving in motion with her packmate, the rumble of a deep snarl of challenge vibrating in her barrel chest.
[Sorrow] [+9!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3
[Troopers] +1 init + 5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1
[Fate] Init +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1
[Troopers] +3 Init + 5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9
[Troopers] +1 : Claw roman.
Rage 1: Bite roman.
[Fate] 1a Claw +1
1b Claw +1
1r Stomp on +3
[Sorrow] 1a. BITE. 1b. BITE. Rage 1: BITE. Biting +3, moving on to +1.
[Troopers] +3 Eat Roman.
[Troopers] +3 Eating Roman.
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Troopers] +3 damage
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Fate] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Sorrow] 1a. -2 Biting +3.
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 5, 8, 9, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Troopers] +3 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Sorrow] 1b. -3! Biting Number 1 +1 dif!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP] Re-rolls: 1
[Sorrow] damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 7, 7, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Fate] 1a claw +1
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 7, 7, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) Re-rolls: 3
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 4, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Fate] 1b claw +1
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 Claw Roman
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 4, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 damage
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Fate] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Sorrow] Rage 1 RAR! +1 dif for changing actions!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) Re-rolls: 3
[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Troopers] Another burst of action has teeth gnashing at Roman blindly, glancing off his fur that was likely left between the wyrmlings teeth. Kora ducked her large head in and ripped out its chest with a harsh dig of teeth that half burrowed out the cavity. Her second bite, aimed at the other, clawing at her packmate, isn't so lucky. It leaves no more then red marks down its body about the same time Romans claws swipe in a quick one-two, leaving criss cross slashes across its bared chest.
It hits back, small claws digging in through the chest, gouging out lines that leave the first blood beads to soak up through Romans fur. Seconds later, his Get of Fenris packmate just about tears it in half, knocking it to the side in the process of ripping it apart with glistening, bloodied teeth.
Stillness then.
Only the sounds of heavy breathing of the two Garou, hot with rage, bursting with adrenalin as their enemies lay scattered around at their feet. The floor is now soaked with sticky blood, warmed and now quickly growing cold. Distantly, beyond their own heart beats and the air rushing in and out of their lungs, is the muffled sound of the neighborhood, none the wiser to the battle taking place in their concrete playground.
[Fate] He clamped a hand over his chest where bright blood welled to spill over and something flickered in his eyes. Yes, yes he was going to make clean up harder because he began to jump up and down on one of the bodies.
[Sorrow] The exterior sounds filter slowly into her consciousness. A car horn, some junkie shouting invectives at his girl in their cheap squat, from the street level to the third floor. The sound of the El train rattling through the neighborhood, cinders sparked in the darkness. There are motes of dust in the air, kicked up from the rusting shelves by the cross-currents of air creating by the fight. They spiral in lazy circles down toward the floor, then sink still in the pooling blood.
Sorrow snaps her jaws, tasting the air, her heart pounding. Begins circling outward from the corpses, adrenaline burning bright in her blood, sharpening her reaction, her senses. Five seconds, ten - fifteen she waits for something else to come charging into the room, aftermath, some new stage of the fight. Then: the car horn, the humans, shouting, that note of unwavering strife, entirely ignorant of what has happened here.
The beast moves, then, brushes her heavy flanks along her bipedal packmate's huge hind legs, stopping to sniff at his wounds - gives him this silent sort of attaboy, all wordless, physical. It is another minute before she shifts again, a minute spent circling the room, watchful, wary - then at last she melts into her human frame, her body opening through the spine to become upright. Her hands are bloody. There's blood on her mouth, that she wipes away with the back of her forearm, spitting unceremoniously to the side.
"You're okay, yeah?" she asks Roman, dark eyes flickering over him, just reconfirming what all her senses tell her. Then: "We should call the doc. We'll need a hand with the clean-up."
They'll work in grim silence, then. The dead here will go unclaimed and unremembered, human and otherwise. Burned in an oil bin, scorched with gasoline in one of the abandoned tunnels underground, at some rarely visited dock, in some derelict warehouse. The trophies they take will be cleansed. Clawed hands for the wyrmpole, a desiccated bit of a grotesque umbilical cord. Eyeballs for the Hrafn.
And the building - well, that will be on their watchful radar for some time to come.
[Troopers] In the last few days there has been word on the street. Over the last week a few people have gone missing. None of them have been notable figures and only one received any sort of police involvement and investigation. For the most part its the vagabonds that are talking, its their gang members disappearing, their siblings, the homeless guy on the street that they valued because of his eyes and ears. It's causing an unease in a certain pocket of the neighbourhood.
It's not until yesterday that they got something more to go on then the talk through worried whispers. They had a location that people have started to avoid. An old brick building, long boarded up and closed down. It was once used as a typical corner shop with only a few businesses. The liquor store there simply got robbed too many times and the small grocers attached went out of business when paying bribes became more expensive then any income they were making, and through the constantly stolen stock and vandalism the family packed up and moved out.
The front of the building has several windows, with boards nailed down, the old doors covered by the metal shutter, dented and scratched, the padlocks long picked and broken. Around back fares no better. The dumpsters there are overfilled, leaving street rubbish splashed across the narrow back alley. Smaller, bathroom and office windows are broken, covered with metal bars with frames bolted into the brickwork. Back doors are still on the hinges, just barely. They've been long kicked in, the building raided, used by squatters that, now, won't come near the place.
The entire building is covered in graffiti, tagged with warnings in languages that only gangs and vice cops understand. Syringes can be found randomly dropped by the back walls. Broken bottles, too. Between the grime and the dirt, feet should tread carefully. Normally here, there's a few people hanging out, too young to be on the street, too drugged to go home. But for the last few days people avoid walking the same sidewalk.
[Sorrow] The whispers do it. The whispers, the way street life shifts around the building, moving with a sort-of ocean-rhythm around the obstacle, implacable. There are rumors and shifting mutations of rumors, a handful of which they have heard. One or the other of them spent stretches of the long afternoon into the evening watching the building, not obtrusively, just passing by when the rumors started. Cutting a path up and down the sidewalk, following the movement of the junkies and the dealers and the homeless and the streetlife around the boarded-up, broken-in, broken-down squat.
Now the sun has gone down. The air is still warm, but there's a bite of fall in the air. Tonight, bathed in the ugly orange of the sodium vapor street lights, Kora and Roman - Sorrow and Fate - circle closer, move like a pack, like predators, closer to the building than normal humans are willing to go. Sorrow runs her fingers over the corrugated metal shutters, lifts her dark eyes, looking up speculatively over the facade of the building, a neat, narrow little frown curving her generous mouth.
Slowly sinking to her haunches, she thumbs the over one of the broken padlocks, then nods to her packmate wordlessly.
They're going around back.
Picking their way through the trash, the discarded needles, the pooled filth, the dubious puddles that fill the pot holes in the broken asphalt. She steps carefully, avoiding the puddles, stretches to look in through the barred, broken windows, then finds the back door barely on its hinges. Leaning close, still, to listen, she cuts a look back at her packmate.
"It's like an invitation," she says of the broken door. Pulls it open, holding it - just - "Let's check it out." - she tells him with a tip of her head. "I want you to scout in there, but I'm going to be right behind you."
[Fate] Trash crackled underfoot, now and then a syringe casting broke beneath a well worn cowboy boot as he stepped through and over trash. Gray-blue eyes were hidden beneath the darker shadows of that ole summer weight straw stetson he wore. It was warm enough that he was in short sleeves, the shirt a lighter shade of denim than the deep dark blue, stiff legged, pressed crisp Wranglers. When they circled around back, he stopped the careless human gait he'd taken. Now he moved like the wolf, silent, graceful, a predator in each movement.
"Yessum, I'm gonna break off to the left first."
With that he reached for the gift of Blur, hoping the Goddess and Spirits smiled on him tonight and then slipped inside.
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 8) [WP]
[Fate] per+PU
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 6, 6, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Sorrow] Per + Primal-Urge
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Troopers] The smell of the narrow alley is to be expected. There's rotting rubbish out here, rain sodden old clothes, food containers, pizza boxes, days, months, half a year old. That the sun reaches the narrow alley only a few hours in a day, with the tall building and the back fence cutting off most angles, leaves the back bathed in plenty of shade. Its the perfect place for growing mold and rot.
Beneath it, they can both pick up the smell that is all too familiar to their senses - death. The scent that comes with bloated, rotting bodies, animal or otherwise. It's here, in the alleyway, likely stuffed under the rubbish, hidden from plain sight. Stepping inside has the scent stronger. Inside, where the humidity keeps the air stale, the smell is almost overwhelming. It's a wonder, then, why others have not picked up on it. Their senses are far greater then that of dull sensed mortals. Here, too, is the smell of old blood.
Stepping through the back door leads into a small hall. Directly to the left are two doors, left opened. One is a bathroom, another an office. They could guess as much by the shape of the window mounted high on the wall out the back. The former stinks, well used, neglected, the drainage likely broken. Not only the smell of old urine and backed up feces, but there too is the smell of rotting meat, the same found by a butchers drain, or by the eaten out carcass left in the field.
To their right is the dark shapes of empty shelves, some toppled. There's blankets here, nested in corners, left and forgotten. An old storage room had been taken over by squatters, now deserted by all but their left over trash and forgotten belongings. At the far end is the cold storage, the door partly left open. Even in the darkness they can pick up the trail of blood across the ground, patches over the floor, old, new - from a week to the night before.
Another set of doorway open up from this local storage room, to the front of the shop, the door is long gone, leaving only the dark shadow of the beyond.
[Sorrow] The scent of death - old and new - is familiar enough that it cannot, dos not turn her stomach. It is rotting, however, both ripe and wrong when mingled with the familiar effluvia of the back alley, sharper in the cool, still darkness of the interior. Roman goes left, hidden by his gift even from her sight. She follows two - three steps behind him, by sense as much as anything else, the tug-tug-tug of their shared bond, her feral sense of his presence, invariable, inevitable. They have been packmates long enough by now that she can anticipate when he will move, and she follows, still and quiet now. There's no banter. A place like this allows no room for jokes.
The stained, stopped up bathroom, the clotted toilet used well past the point of function - that does makes her stomach crawl up her esophagus, abruptly and almost entirely. Kora closes her eyes briefly, turns her head away, breathes shallowly through her mouth, feeling the scent of the place coating her tongue, swallowing hard, and harder, to hold down her gorge. A brief moment of tension - white-knuckled - is a silent stand-in for the curse she might otherwise have uttered over the reaction when she's past the bathroom.
They glance into the office, circle to the dark corners, soft-footed now, glancing out toward the front of the store. Both are drawn, though, inevitably to the blood trail leading toward the cold storage. Kora pauses, touches Roman briefly on the shoulder, nodding at the partially opened door. The plan is the same, and this is wordless. In the dark shadow of the deserted interior, she shifts, all the way through to her lupus form, swifter and more silent on soft paws. She nudges open the door with her nose, blocks it open with her body, waits for her scout to precede her, then follows right after him, her tail flat and alert, her eyes pricked, her eyes gleaming in the darkness.
[Fate] The smell of rotting death was sickly sweet in his nostrils. For once he was grateful to be in homid, that is until his Alpha shifted. He took a quick glance inside the bathroom. Hell it smelled better than a pig farm, though for some reason it reminded him of a pig wallow and a slaughter house combined. Then he was at the cold storage, following suit as he shifted down to lupus and slipped through the door and to the left again.
[Troopers] The cold storage unit isn't large. Just enough room to stock cold groceries for this corner shop, that, when functioning, had stocked a single wall of cold goods from drinks to a variety of frozen meals and goods. Its meant to be empty. It's not. They both know this the moment they are closer to the partially opened door, by the smell coming out of it. There is rotted things inside, but the moment they are in lupus forms, that extra keen sense picks up on the other. It's hard to place this scent. It's wet, filled with vitamins and nutrients, bloodied and raw. Fresh. Underlying it is a chemical smell that shouldn't be with such natural smells, nor should the sharp contrast of spoiled meats be in a similar location. Birth and death in the same quarter.
Inside, immediately, there is piles of dead. It's nothing like the warehouse operating theater. There are, at a guess, five bodies laying piled against the left wall, men mostly, a woman is in there, too. Legs broken, several missing an arm from a socket. Heads at odd angles, and each has a raw neck and shoulder area, where bloodless flesh look minced and torn. As for the blood, it's across the ground, but there's not a lot of it, only the trail from a little sloppy work. Most is found in the large bags in the opposite corner. For that's what they were --
Sacs. Mucas, bloodied, a rich food source, covering humanoid bodies. There are only two of them, but they are moving, ribs shifting under the semi transparent coating on their forms. Not dissimilar to a pup born in its own embryonic sac to be eaten and licked away by a mothers tongue and snout. Both lay prone on the ground, one facing the wall, the other outwards. They can see the slits of closed eyes, how the face is similar to that of a human. Hairless. Longer limbs. One is narrower then the other, but there is growing muscle tones. As they watch, one shifts an arm, the long fingers having the beginning of sharpened nails, thickening. It turns its head, slow, sluggish. A slight moment that ceases, like that in sleep.
[Fate] He froze and sent back across the link to Sorrow.
"I'll be danged. I think someone left a litter. Looks like a cross between a big ole cat and a dog that done did the nasty with a human."
He looked up to make sure nothing was over their heads in there. All for tossing a cocktail in the place and closing the door while roasting the things.
[Sorrow] Sorrow is two steps behind him, the chemical scent snds a lashing awareness through her feral frame, prickling her flesh, setting her fur to stand on end. She picks her way through the storage locker a few steps behind Fate, delicate on the bloodslicked floor, stepping around the piled corpses, the meals brought back by some parent to the nest for its embryonic young.
Kill them - the wolf says, quiet, quick and certain, mind-to-mind. They sleeping, shifting about in sleep, still. She's merciless. - and be wary for the parent. Like a bird bringing home worms to the nest. Big, to take this much prey. Drag it home in the darkness, scare away the thugs and the junkies, the whores and the pimps, the street people who live with every dark thing in the world looming over their shoulders, just out of sight.
Without hesistation, she lunges forward, snapping her jaws at one of the sleeping young, going inevitably, inexorably for the throat. The room is claustrophobic enough that she remains in lupus, baring her teeth in a silent snarl as she surges forward, expecting her packmate to follow her lead.
[Troopers] They wake. Too late. Too vulnerable to do anything about it, either. The sacs are thicker then they appear to be, strong enough to stop adult humans breaking through it when they move about. Sharp teeth break through it with nips, and warm fluids immediately slides out. There's not gushes off it, just enough to cover and moisturize, to breathe into lungs. The umbilical cord is self attached to the being inside, to a spot between the breasts, a small, subtle lump section from which the thin cord is attached. If they care to check, there are small differences between the two. The one that had been moving was more matured, its lump bigger, not any bigger then a golf ball, but noticable on an otherwise naked chest, and the cord is fatter and thicker. It's more fully formed, stronger looking, longer nails and limbs.
This one is the first to die. It does so mostly silently. Teeth find its slippery neck, the smell of it a strong newborn scent -- wrong by the way its tainted, the chemical smell much stronger, more suited to laboratory then found in an embryonic sac, but it stands out under the strong scents of blood. Surprisingly they find the skin tougher then it appears to be, having a thicker hide, even soaked in moisturizing fluid. When it's eyes open, they are large, the pupil lost in the faint swimming colour of a pink, as if it has a bad case of conjunctivitis. There's a gargle as fluid comes up the throat, as lungs now try and breathe air.
It takes effort to kill them. Not because the throats are torn out, but because they still continue to move, blood continues to pump. Limbs move, but jerking and sluggish like that of an uncoordinated newborn, confused and in no position to fight back. Even as their throats gape, the soft, sweet lump between their breasts, continues to throb, more frantic then.
[Fate] He was quick to spend WP for Resist pain because it had been his experience since coming to Chicago that nearly every damned thing he clawed, bit or dove in to, burned the hell out of him. He dove it, ripping through the sac and throat even as the panic lump went off, no doubt calling for help in some weird way. His head jerked sending a spray of blood and flesh out in a wide arc.
[Sorrow] Blood and fluid sprays from her maw. Kora tears out the throat of the humanoid and finds that it is merely a host, an eggsac itself, an incubator for something deeper inside. This time, her low snarl is audible, alert and alive.
Whatever is inside is coming out. she tells her packmate, her tail low with cautious, her hackles clearly standing on end, her ears alert. The communication is silent, her mind-voice more human, but edged with that animal undertone it takes from her form, her mind suffused in her feral senses, in the sharp rising instincts of a wolf seeking prey. drag them out. Then dig them out.
With a shake of her gray coat, she seizes the throat of her erstwhile prey, the more mature of the two bodies, in powerful jaws, begins dragging it toward the storage room, over the pile of gnawed corpses, wary of the throbbing - thing between the beast's breasts. When she has cleared the storage room - if she clears it before whatever is in wants to come out - she surges into the more feral of her warforms, filling the space huge and bristling. There is, briefly, an alert flick of her ear toward her packmate.
Then she sets her claws on the chest, and tears into the lump in the chest with a snarl.
[-1 WP Resist Pain!]
[Fate] His Alpha spoke and as soon as she dragged a sac-body out the door, he snapped up to Warform and tossed the other one out behind her, following a split second behind to begin stomping on the pulsing thing in the chest.
[Troopers] Prey is drug over the ground, slippery wet, still moving. Roman's is thrown out to land with a wet smack on the ground, with both of them following out quickly, moving to still the moving, pulsating lumps until they cease altogether - and when they do, the beings still.
Noise.
They weren't wrong. Maybe it was some sort of panic button or a parental intuition. Either way, they hear movement coming towards the storage unit from the doors leading out to the front of the shop. It's not loud movement, but their senses are sharp tonight, keenly aware of the dangers around them. The shift of air, and the brush of an empty tin can as its knocked to the ground, rolling.
Seconds later. One. Two. Three.
Like those in the bags, now lifeless on the floor, except these beings are mature. In the darkness of the back of the store, their eyes are no longer pink, but are an illuminating orange. Their hands have fully formed claws, not large like that of the Garou, but smaller, narrower, curved talons not an inch long. One bares its teeth, pointed, and from within the throat comes a strange sound that is no longer human, but nor is like that of an animal. A constricted hissing shriek, cut short as the mouth snaps. Aggressive.
They move unnervingly like a pack as they filter into the room, inhuman, supernaturally graceful - enough to rival a Garou. Their muscles under their long, lean limbs, corded rather then bulked. And all three's attention is on the two large beasts that have just murdered two of their own.
[Initiatives.]
[Fate] Init
+8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2
[Sorrow] Init: +9
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8
[Troopers] +1 Init: + 5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5
[Troopers] +2 Init: + 5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8
[Troopers] + 3 Init: + 5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4
[Troopers] declaring:
+3 grapple Roman
+1 bite Roman
[Fate] 1a claw +3
1b Bite +3
1r Claw +1
[Troopers] +2 claw kora.
R 1: bite kora.
[Sorrow] Kora: 1a. Bite! 1b. Bite! Rage 1: BITE. Rage 2: PLUS BITINGS.
Start with +2. Go to +3 if 2 goes down.
[Sorrow] 1a. -2
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 7, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Troopers] + 2 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 4, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Sorrow] 1b. -3!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 5) [WP]
[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Troopers] +2 stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Troopers] +2 Claw Kora
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Troopers] +2 damage
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Fate] 1a claw +3
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Fate] 1b Bite +3
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Fate] damn +3
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 9 at target 6)
[Troopers] + 3 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Troopers] + 3 grapple - special maneuver [break neck]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 9)
[Troopers] + damage
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Fate] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 bite
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 5, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 damage
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Fate] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Sorrow] Rage 1!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 5)
[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Troopers] +2 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 8, 8 (Failure at target 6)
[Troopers] +2
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 9, 10 (Failure at target 6)
[Fate] 1r Claw +1
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 7, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Sorrow] Rage 2:
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Troopers] +2 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 6, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Troopers] They launch into attack, over their bloodied, dead forms of their companions.
It's quick and brutal. Kora lashes out in her hispo form, biting with teeth larger then the beings fingers. Each hit true, tear through flesh and fill the air with sprayed blood. Skin is tough, leathery on the tongue, but it's still no match for the Get of Fenris, who rips out chunks of meat and flesh, down to bone. Still it moves. Striking back with claw and teeth, moving quicker then any ordinary being should. It lashes, soundless, and with the same violence in mind, but quickly finds itself slumping towards the ground, its torso and face nothing but chewed pieces and missing chunks.
Roman had lashed out first, hit home, swiping claws and teeth through hard muscle and flesh, made to withstand assaults but nothing so precise as the Weapons of Gaia. Her Child draws blood, grabs flesh with teeth and spits it out for the next bite. One of them, bleeding with gashes and gouges torn from its body, shows no signs of slowing, grabs the large crinos head in a vice grip of both arms, and even as teeth press into bleeding wounds, uses such strength that would tear a humans clear off its shoulders. Roman can feel the strain on his muscles, the tension in tendons, but breaks free.
He finishes it then. Tearing the face and throat off. Amazingly it still lives and breathes, nothing more then a walking, minced corpse. Warm, bleeding and incapable of registering pain or showing signs of slowing down. Through the raked gouges in its chest, a small organ pulses wildly, second to its heart.
The third, who's hide has been the strongest, faces off with Kora, baring the rows of pointed teeth.
[Troopers] [edit, faces off with Roman.]
[Fate] He was a bit too busy to stomp on that little beating thing in the chest this time. He bared his teeth at the thing facing off with him and cracked his neck as a reminder that this thing's buddy had tried to wring that neck and was unsuccessful. A low rumbling growl vibrated through his chest as he made a stomping motion just so this thing would remember the position he was in when they came in. Yep, in the middle of stomping on one of the others when caught.
[Sorrow] There is something elegant about this eruption of violence. Their movements are balletic in their speed and strength. Turn off the sound, the snarl of challenge from the Fenrir, the grunt and whump as one huge body impacts another, the scrabble of claws on the floor - turn it off, all of it, the blood and brutality, the arterial spray, this fantic, immediate alertness - make it movement, bodies in impossible motion -
- except that it cannot be turned off. Sorrow tears into the first, more alive in battle, her tripping heart, her pounding pulse, her rage unleashed in the rawness, the uncertainty, the fractional-second dilation of time that happens in battle. She ends one thing, its leathery skin, its inhuman speed, tearing it apart, then turns with a snarl, moving in motion with her packmate, the rumble of a deep snarl of challenge vibrating in her barrel chest.
[Sorrow] [+9!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3
[Troopers] +1 init + 5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1
[Fate] Init +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1
[Troopers] +3 Init + 5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9
[Troopers] +1 : Claw roman.
Rage 1: Bite roman.
[Fate] 1a Claw +1
1b Claw +1
1r Stomp on +3
[Sorrow] 1a. BITE. 1b. BITE. Rage 1: BITE. Biting +3, moving on to +1.
[Troopers] +3 Eat Roman.
[Troopers] +3 Eating Roman.
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Troopers] +3 damage
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Fate] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Sorrow] 1a. -2 Biting +3.
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 5, 8, 9, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Troopers] +3 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Sorrow] 1b. -3! Biting Number 1 +1 dif!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP] Re-rolls: 1
[Sorrow] damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 7, 7, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Fate] 1a claw +1
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 7, 7, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) Re-rolls: 3
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 4, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Fate] 1b claw +1
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 Claw Roman
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 4, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 damage
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Fate] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Sorrow] Rage 1 RAR! +1 dif for changing actions!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) Re-rolls: 3
[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Troopers] +1 Stamina
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Troopers] Another burst of action has teeth gnashing at Roman blindly, glancing off his fur that was likely left between the wyrmlings teeth. Kora ducked her large head in and ripped out its chest with a harsh dig of teeth that half burrowed out the cavity. Her second bite, aimed at the other, clawing at her packmate, isn't so lucky. It leaves no more then red marks down its body about the same time Romans claws swipe in a quick one-two, leaving criss cross slashes across its bared chest.
It hits back, small claws digging in through the chest, gouging out lines that leave the first blood beads to soak up through Romans fur. Seconds later, his Get of Fenris packmate just about tears it in half, knocking it to the side in the process of ripping it apart with glistening, bloodied teeth.
Stillness then.
Only the sounds of heavy breathing of the two Garou, hot with rage, bursting with adrenalin as their enemies lay scattered around at their feet. The floor is now soaked with sticky blood, warmed and now quickly growing cold. Distantly, beyond their own heart beats and the air rushing in and out of their lungs, is the muffled sound of the neighborhood, none the wiser to the battle taking place in their concrete playground.
[Fate] He clamped a hand over his chest where bright blood welled to spill over and something flickered in his eyes. Yes, yes he was going to make clean up harder because he began to jump up and down on one of the bodies.
[Sorrow] The exterior sounds filter slowly into her consciousness. A car horn, some junkie shouting invectives at his girl in their cheap squat, from the street level to the third floor. The sound of the El train rattling through the neighborhood, cinders sparked in the darkness. There are motes of dust in the air, kicked up from the rusting shelves by the cross-currents of air creating by the fight. They spiral in lazy circles down toward the floor, then sink still in the pooling blood.
Sorrow snaps her jaws, tasting the air, her heart pounding. Begins circling outward from the corpses, adrenaline burning bright in her blood, sharpening her reaction, her senses. Five seconds, ten - fifteen she waits for something else to come charging into the room, aftermath, some new stage of the fight. Then: the car horn, the humans, shouting, that note of unwavering strife, entirely ignorant of what has happened here.
The beast moves, then, brushes her heavy flanks along her bipedal packmate's huge hind legs, stopping to sniff at his wounds - gives him this silent sort of attaboy, all wordless, physical. It is another minute before she shifts again, a minute spent circling the room, watchful, wary - then at last she melts into her human frame, her body opening through the spine to become upright. Her hands are bloody. There's blood on her mouth, that she wipes away with the back of her forearm, spitting unceremoniously to the side.
"You're okay, yeah?" she asks Roman, dark eyes flickering over him, just reconfirming what all her senses tell her. Then: "We should call the doc. We'll need a hand with the clean-up."
They'll work in grim silence, then. The dead here will go unclaimed and unremembered, human and otherwise. Burned in an oil bin, scorched with gasoline in one of the abandoned tunnels underground, at some rarely visited dock, in some derelict warehouse. The trophies they take will be cleansed. Clawed hands for the wyrmpole, a desiccated bit of a grotesque umbilical cord. Eyeballs for the Hrafn.
And the building - well, that will be on their watchful radar for some time to come.
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