Ornature

[Twilight] The woods are not just still here; they're silent. There should be frogs in the pond, insect life, animal life. The stillness here is beyond that which they themselves would engender naturally. There's nearly a wall of it. Though the trees are still growing, the area seems otherwise - dead.

Owen can see the dark, solid shadow of something beyond the treeline on the other side of a pond. Building? And knows - with an eerie prescience - that this is assuredly the place.
to Wrenboys Rhyme

[Twilight] The woods are not just still here; they're silent. There should be frogs in the pond, insect life, animal life. The stillness here is beyond that which they themselves would engender naturally. There's nearly a wall of it. Though the trees are still growing, the area seems otherwise - dead.

Owen can see the dark, solid shadow of something beyond the treeline on the other side of a pond. Building? And knows - with an eerie prescience - that this is assuredly the place.
to Riddle me This

[Riddle me This] Decent. I'm no sharp shoo- Hold up.

*The message over totem link dies into the eerie silence the pair had suddenly stepped into. Wood sounds fall away much as Owen's thoughts had, a stillness prickling the theurge's senses as unnatural. He's stopped mid-stride, shoulders rolling forward as he squints across a too still pond as moves to crouch at the water's edge.*

This is the place. Is that a building over there?

[Wrenboys Rhyme] Rhyme rumbles an unhappy growl from deep within his chest and comes to a stop. Green eyes move towards the shadow Owen indicates, but quickly return to the waters surface. His dark snout is lifted once more, confirming the odors that hang in the air around the pond.

I can't tell. Didn't even notice it until now. But it smells like death out here. Something is rotting in or near the water. I'm going to check it out.

Slowly he creeps forward, furred belly close to the forest floor.

[Riddle me This] [owen is SO stealthy]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 4, 4 (Failure at target 5)

[Wrenboys Rhyme] (Time to shine! NINJA!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 5 at target 4) Re-rolls: 1

[Riddle me This] [Seriously STEALTHY]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Twilight] Now Rhyme sees it too: something just beyond the line of trees on the other shore - a uniformity to the shadows that resolves itself into the solid shape of a wooden structure. Building; cabin maybe. Shed. That tantalizing suggestion of light from the other shore becomes more visible too, the closer they get to the water.

Rhyme pads down the slope to the water's edge, cautious, more than silent - well-night invisible, and Owen shadows behind; clumsier, more awkward within the limits of his solid human frame than his wolf-formed packmate. Mixed in with the scent of rot is the distinctive presence of smoke on the wind.

A low fog wreathes the water, curling in between the cattails and rushes as Rhyme creeps closer to the water's edge. The scent of rot curdles against his senses here - a half-dozen differential stages. At the water's edge, he sees one source of the scent - a bloated, supperating human hand, severed raggedly at the wrist. The skin is deadwhite where it is not covered in muck, sunk amongst the reeds.

He creeps closer and it twitches. A spasmodic movement rippling across the putrefying flesh.

[Riddle me This] *A hand drug through his long hair, nostrils flaring at the sickly sweet scent of waterlogged rot. Owen crouches just behind the ragabash, boots sunk in muck as he lets his packmate do his work. Scouting the no moon's business, the theurge keeping strange eyes on the small structure across from them. *

Bodies?

[Wrenboys Rhyme] The hand twitches, and Rhyme startles, jumping back a half-step with hackles raised. He immediately drops an inch lower to the ground, baring his teeth at the disembodied hand as if he could frighten back. Gleaming eyes flick towards Owen as he begins to edge towards the water once more.

In a manner of speaking. There's a hand...it's moving. And I smell more rot. I don't think there's just one corpse out here. There's smoke, too. Do you smell it?

[Riddle me This] I do. I was hoping that was my hair.

*Somehow the mention of moving disembodied hands has him not wanting to dangle himself just over the pool, Owen standing and taking several steps back through the mud, a scowl firmly on shadowed features.*

So we have a case of Zombies?

*It resonates bland across the totem link, Owen considering his gun forlornly. guns never worked in zombie movies.... *

[Twilight] Some ripple of movement in the middle distance just within Owen's view. Half-hidden by a the solid truck of a willow and the tangle of opportunistic vines pulling down its elegant, weeping limbs back toward the earth. The quarter-round sweep of a door, opening.

"I told you," a low voice. Male and gruff drifts out from the beyond the screening trees on the opposite shore. "There ain't much left'a that one. Gon' have to go hunting soon."

- whatever response comes from inside is muffled, indistinct. The cheerful music of Wheel of Fortune comes tingling out from the interior, sounding tinny and strained through cheap speakers.

Laughter from the male, indulgent. Even loving. "Fine, fine. No more joggers. A fat one."

[Wrenboys Rhyme] If I understand the reference, zombies are entire bodies. This is just a moving hand.

Even as he says it, it sounds ridiculous in his head. JUST a MOVING HAND. Not the sort of statement most people feel comfortable making on a Friday night.

But I'm almost certain there's more down here. Unless it's just one body in several pieces, several stages...

And then the thought is interrupted by the voice of a male.

Get low, get invisible.

[Riddle me This] *Six feet was alot to try a disappearing act with, but Owen tries, sliding his body further behind a tangle of elderberry bush and listening. Taking his cues from Mike.*

Once we deal with these two, I'll need to check past the curtain... may be something unpleasant feeding on this energy. Or causing it.

*Fingers slide through the mud, a pebble gathered in his palm.*

[Twilight] The trees on the opposite shore rustle and shift; those vines tangled around the limbs of the dying willow shiver and part like a curtain, pushed away by a blunt hand and the male comes lumbering out. His lower jaw juts forward at an awkward angle, and a pair of blunt tusks like those of a boar rise from the misshapen jaw. One is ivory, the other is marred by a grayish brown cavity at the midpoint. He has a head of patchy, stringy brown hair and the broad, barrel-chested physique of a linebacker running to fat.

He pauses near the base of the willow, searching amongst the overgrown weeds for something he finds a moment later, lifting an pulling the rope cinched around the base of the tree, mostly covered in muck. It runs all the way to the edge of the pond and as he pulls, the sunken remains of a once-human torso come sluicing up through the water. The body is not fresh, and the smell when it breaches the surface of the water is nearly overwhelming. The head and all four limbs are long gone, and huge chunks have already been taken out of what remains. The cage of the ribs are clipped back, cattails tangled in amongst the exposed and rotting viscera.

The torso catches on something, and the male grunts, pulls harder and at last it comes free, a strip of flesh left behind on the rocks as the body thumps onto shore. He gives a satisfied grunt and lumbers forward, drawing a machete from a holster wrapped about one meaty thigh and bending forward to poke about the rotting remnants of the human corpse for a likely place to carve.

"WHEEL. OF. FORTUNE!" - the crowd shouts from within, as the male looks up, suddenly, across the stillness of the pond, rusted blade poised over the grotesque source of his evening meal.

Listening.

[Twilight] Per + Alertness
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wrenboys Rhyme] (NINJA!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 6 at target 4)

[Riddle me This] [Oh god. I are stealthy!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Twilight] That listening stillness - attenuates. Extends, somehow. The male is hunkered down, sinking slowly into the muck, his great weight settled over his feet. Scanning the shore opposite, on the alert. Pause here and there to deliberately sniff the air, as if he could smell something through the fetid rot.

[Riddle me This] *Owen is frozen in place. He doesn't dare even breath. Which in the fetid air is a blessing. He can sense Michael nearby, though the ragabash has slithered out of view, a ghost in the wooded night.*

[Wrenboys Rhyme] Easy, lad. Easy. Just stay still. Control your breathing...don't move...

Whether he's addressing Owen or himself is unclear. But his eyes remain focused on his man-beast prey. The sight of the mutilated, rotting corpse being dragged on shore for butchering almost illicits another growl. But that would not be conducive to remaining hidden.

It's almost like an alligator...

[Riddle me This] [manip + stealth. ]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3 (Failure at target 6)

[Twilight]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Twilight] And so the moment extends. The tusked man juts out his lower jaw another half-inch. His eyes are slitted now, and his breathing is audible. The creature snuffle-pants, mouth open as he sucks in the scents in the rotting air. From inside, the creak of wooden floorboards, the shuffle of feet and a grotesque - sound, like slate drawn across a washboard, ending in a low, flat moan.

"SHHH." Says tusk-face, straightening now and sheathing the machete, mouth pulling across in a macabre flexion of something close to a grin. "THINK I GOT ME ONE." He whispers, hisses, with an aggressive edge to it.

All at once, he rises abruptly and charges forward, straight into the morass of pond full of rotting body parts, right toward Owen.

Mid-way across the body, he shifts, ripping into Crinos with a braying grunt that passes for a howl through his misshapen jaw.

[Twilight] Tuskface +6
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[Riddle me This] [+7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4

[Wrenboys Rhyme] 8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2 (Failure at target 6)

[Riddle me This] [or - Shifting to crinos. So 12 total, rather than 11]

[Twilight] (Sorry, had to log back in. stupid internet!

Owen: 12
Rhyme: 10
Tuskface: 8

[Twilight] Tuskface: 1. CHARGE across the pond. Rage 1: Bodyslam Owen! Rage 2: Bite Owen!

[Wrenboys Rhyme] 1. Hold for Tuskfaces attack.

[Riddle me This] [1.Run past where he figures Mike is so as to facilitate a backstab. rage 1 - DODGE!]

[Twilight] 1. Dex + Ath not to fall on dead bodies.
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Twilight] Rage 1: Bodyslam Owen!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Riddle me This] [DODGE!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Twilight] Tuskface: remain standing?
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wrenboys Rhyme] Bite 1!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 6, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 4)

[Wrenboys Rhyme] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Twilight] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wrenboys Rhyme] Bite 2! Burn 1 rage!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 4)

[Wrenboys Rhyme] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 5, 5, 7, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[Twilight] Tuskface Rage 2: CHOMP!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 5)

[Twilight] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Riddle me This] [augH! SOAK!!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Twilight] Round 2:

Owen: 12
Michael: 10
Tuskface: 8

Tuskface: 1a. Vomit on Owen. 1b. Turn to face Michael. Rage 1: Claw Michael!

[Wrenboys Rhyme] 1: Bite! Rage 1: BITE HARDER!

[Riddle me This] [Owen - 1. GRAPPLE! rage 1 BITE! rage 2- BITE YOU AGAIN!]

[Riddle me This] [grapple!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 5, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Riddle me This] [waitwait! I mean - GRAPPLE!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Wrenboys Rhyme] Chompity chomp! With WP!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 7, 7, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 3) [WP]

[Wrenboys Rhyme]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Twilight] SOAK!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 5, 8, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Twilight] 1a. VOMIT on Owen.
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Riddle me This] [soak?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 8, 9 (Failure at target 6)

[Twilight] 1b. Changing actions: breaking grapple! -3 split
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Riddle me This] [R1. OW! I bite! (-2 wounds) WP!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5) [WP]

[Riddle me This] [damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Twilight] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Twilight] Rage back!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 8) [WP]

[Wrenboys Rhyme] EAT YOUR FACE!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 4)

[Wrenboys Rhyme]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Twilight] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 6, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Twilight] Tuskface: Rage 1: Claw Michael!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Twilight] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 5, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wrenboys Rhyme] SOAK!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 7, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Riddle me This] [Owen BITE! -2 wounded, -1 dif flanking]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 5, 8 (Success x 3 at target 4)

[Riddle me This] [damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Twilight] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 5, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Twilight] Tuskface: x.x

[Twilight] The monstrous creature charges across the pond, stirring up muck and sediment and rotting bits of broken-down flesh. The odor in the air becomes near-unbearable. He charges, straight for Owen, who resembles a tree in the same way that the Chrysler building does: both are verticle. Mid-way through the charge, the cursed thing shifts into a patchy-furred Crinos, with the forward thrusting jaw and the huge tusks distending his face.

The cursed Garou throws himself at Owen, who runs, drawing him past his packmate's position. From there, everything is a brutal dance of blood and blows. Every bite they land tastes of fetid water and rotting flesh. Tuskface's skin sloughs off in layers as they bite, but still he fights on - falls once, but rises again, raging, snarling and spitting wild challenge back into their faces. Wrenboy's rhyme tears away another chunk of flesh from the frenzied Spiral, but it is his packmate who puts him down in the end -

- one last bite, and the monstrous thing staggers backward and falls heavily forward, first to one massive knee, then facefoward in the muck. Still Crinos-formed in death.

In the aftermath: just their shallow breathing, the harsh sound of it, the roar of blood in their ears. Owen is sorely wounded, acidic bile dripping down over his torn flesh. Michael remains unharmed.

From the open door of the cottage on the shore opposite, another wet, crumpled paper moan.

"I'd like to buy a vowel, Pat!" - and the music of Wheel of Fortune segueing into an add for Gold Bond Medicated Powder.

"EEHHHHHHH?" - the moan again, clearly rising in tone to mark a question at the end.

[Wrenboys Rhyme] Breathing hard, he stares at their fallen foe grimly. That should have gone a lot easier. And...

There's at least one more up there. Are you up for finishing this fight?

Not to question his packmates mettle, but Owen looks bad. Torn flesh and vomit-covered fur isn't a positive indicator of how the next battle may go. The questioning moan floats down from the cabin, causing Michaels ears to perk once more. There wasn't going to be much time. If...when it comes down here, try to just stay clear of it. Keep its attention, but keep moving. I'll do what I can.

[Riddle me This] *The sleek furred form of Owen's crinos self is covered in bile that sizzles like hot oil in every open bitemark. He's slick with fetid water and blood and ichor, eyes a lambent green in the dark as a long furred head swivels in the direction of the Cabin . A moment's consideration. A nod. They could do this if they fought smart. *

[Slaughter] The shadows shift, as something within them, moves. She is quiet, all things considered and perhaps for a second, the Garou think they are being attacked on all sides.

Certainly, her eyes are fixed on them her hands deliberately held away from her body - the gun in her left hand pointed away from the Garou, briefly, harmlessly to the side. There is no recognition in her gaze as she regards the two Garou - in their non-human forms, they are brutish, monstrous and cruel looking, all fur and muzzle and claws. They look like every other Garou she has ever seen like this, save a handful she knew well enough to pick out.

Those are all gone now.

There is a steady wariness in her eyes, her gaze moving to the wounded Garou - to the war-formed beast on the ground. The kinswoman is dressed in dull clothing - hiking boots splattered with mud. Her jacket is a wind breaker - serviceable instead of stylish, her hair up in a twisted bun like an afterthought.

The moaning had gotten her attention as well - though it is impossible for them to know how long she had been there. For, when she is sure they are not about to attack her (this distrust is quite different from fear; she is not afraid of them; she is mistrustful) she reaches beneath her jacket with her right hand retrieving another gun, now two, black and heavy in her pale hands.

She points one at cabin and cocks an eyebrow, before moving back to them. Back to the cabin, significantly.

[Twilight] "I'd like to guess, Pat!" the chatter continues from the television, tinny. Through the dark scrim of trees they can see the ghostly flicker of the television against the boards of a wooden floor. "Is it "GOOD AS IT GETS"?"

The raw, ragged moan comes again, somewhat sharper this time, and a mountainous shadow suddenly occludes the flicker of the of the television set against the bare wood floors. There is a lumbering sense of presence as the mountainous shadow lumbers forward, eclipsing all light from within. The shambling-forward continues, and the shape resolves into a giant mountain of flesh - seven feet tall and near-again as wide, wearing a caftan thate seems to have been sewn from musty, moth-eaten white fabric with a pattern of green ears of corn that might, once, have been intended for kitchen curtains in the 1950s. The garment is inexpertly sewn, and falls away in places. A smear of red on the breast could be ketchup or blood.

The Thing is human only in the vaguest sense. Some of the parts were-once human. Even from a distance they can, perhaps, see the rough stitches holding one of the hands onto the stump of the arm. The skin from the corner of mouth to cheek has started rotting, and is pulled closed by more of those crude stitches.

The only thing distinctive female amount it is the long mane of luxuriant auburn hair cascading incongruously from the otherwise patchy ruin of its skull.

As the thing stumbles toward the banks, the moans become - sharper, more frantic, angrier, until they take on the tones of an angry, braying elephant.

[Riddle me This] *Bloodied teeth flash in a gore slick muzzle as something - someone slides out of the shadows. Riddle Me This a wounded beast, and never fond of surprises at the best of times. Only the vague mystical press of the doctor's breeding marks her to senses choked with ichor, Glasswalker held tense and wary until she's well within view. Then recognition of the kinfolk dawns, along with something like panic.*

Jesus christ. Isn't that y-

*The thought cut off over totem phone as light goes out, blocked by a lumbering monstrosity of stitched flesh and ill intent.*

[Wrenboys Rhyme] Remind me later to ask the Doctor...actually, nevermind. I have a feeling her answer would just irritate me.

Rhyme follows Imogens pantomime, staring thoughtfully at the cabin with baleful green eyes. Taking the fight into the creatures home would have been a bold move, could have even worked when you consider the element of surprise. But that possibility is blown when the behemoth woman-thing makes its appearance. He immediately snarls a challenge at the approaching monstrosity. Whether it comprehends what he actually says, his intentions are made clear as he begins to close the distance between them. Slowly at first, and then trotting, finally full-on charging his prey.

[Slaughter] The ragged moan comes from the direction of the TV sounds - then the lumbering beast is barreling down towards them - toward the Garou specifically, one would imagine.

There is no conversation. At least, none which she can hear, and the beasts are too inhuman for her to recognize the distance of eyes that heralds a connection via totem. However, the body language of the Garou at least speak of no argument to the kinswoman's clear intent of involving herself.

She turns on her heel and levels a gun, firing several times without hesitation. Her ears begin to ring.

Twelve.

[Riddle me This] [init +6 (wounds accounted for)]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3

[Twilight] Thumbeline: +5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9

[Wrenboys Rhyme] 8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[Slaughter] (+9)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1

[Wrenboys Rhyme] All out time. 1 Bite. Rage 1 BITE Rage 2 BITE!!!!!

[Twilight] Rhyme: 16
Thumbelina: 14
Imogen: 10
Owen: 9

(For logistical purposes, at the start of the init round Rhyme is closing on Thumbelina (half-way across On Gross Pond) and can attack this round. Owen needs a ranged weapon or an action to reach her, and ditto Imogen.)

[Wrenboys Rhyme] ((Bite!))
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 5, 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 4)

[Riddle me This] [Owen - closing.]

[Slaughter] split dice two ways -
gun 1 - 3 round burst
gun 2 - 3 round burst (ambidextrous)

[Twilight] Thumbelina: 1. Stomp Rhyme. 2. Punch Rhyme.

[Wrenboys Rhyme] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Twilight] Thumbelina: Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 8)

[Twilight] Thumbelina: Stomp Rhyme
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Twilight] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Wrenboys Rhyme] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Slaughter] First 3 round burst.
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 9, 10 (Failure at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Slaughter] (additional die 'cuz I'm forgetful)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[Slaughter] Kahseeno? seriously.
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 5, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP] Re-rolls: 1

[Slaughter] DAMAGE NOW PLS
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Twilight] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 8)

[Wrenboys Rhyme] GRRR!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 4)

[Wrenboys Rhyme] Damage?
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Twilight] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[Twilight] Punch Rhyme!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Twilight] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wrenboys Rhyme] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wrenboys Rhyme] Please. Be a hero.
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6) [WP]

[Wrenboys Rhyme] BIG DAMAGE!
Dice Rolled:[ 17 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Twilight] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Slaughter] (+9)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Wrenboys Rhyme]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 5, 6 (Failure at target 8)

[Riddle me This] [init again! +6 due to wounds]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[Wrenboys Rhyme]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 7, 7, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wrenboys Rhyme] 8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3

[Twilight] 5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4

[Twilight] Order:

Imogen: 14
Owen: 12
Rhyme: 11
Thumbelina: 9

Thumbelina: 1. BREAK WIND. 2. STOMP RHYME.

[Slaughter] gun 1 - three round burst
gun 2- three round burst

[Wrenboys Rhyme] 1 Hold breath! 2 Bite!

[Riddle me This] [1.Fur Gnarl for Michael! R1 - BITE]

[Slaughter] gun 1
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 7, 7, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Slaughter] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Twilight] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 10 (Failure at target 8)

[Slaughter] Gun 2
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP] Re-rolls: 1

[Slaughter] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 6, 6, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Twilight] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 5, 7 (Botch x 1 at target 8)

[Twilight] Rage back!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 8) [WP]

[Riddle me This] [fur gnarl dex/brawl -2 +wp]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6) [WP]

[Wrenboys Rhyme] Chomp!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 5, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 5) [WP]

[Wrenboys Rhyme] DAMAGE!
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 9 at target 6)

[Twilight] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Twilight] And, the moaning mountain of sutured flesh falls over with an abiding thump. Half her limbs seem to deliquesce the instant whatever animating force holds her together gives up the ghosts.

Inside, they will find a simple cabin, stinking of blood, with human hams curing in the smoke from the poorly maintained woodstove. A massive bed and a rickety table and a half-dozen bassinets, all full of mutilated cabbage patch dolls tucked up in filthy blankets, pink or blu according to the doll's sex. Eyeball stew steeping on the stove, and ginger tea ("for upset tummies") in a nook on the wall. A television and VCR with possibly the world's largest collection of tapes of Wheel of Fortune. A good half-dozen wallets or more, shoved into a safe underneath the giant bed.

[Riddle me This] [oof. Cleansing this shit. 4 due to wounds + like.. 4 gnosis due to bodies and grossness]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 5, 7, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2

[Janis Ian] Janis just laughs more, shifting her body until her ass meets the cold stone of the porch, legs drawn up to her chest. She draws her arms around her calves to hug them. Muscles twitching reflexively in her tattooed skin.

She quiet as she listens.

[Owen DeTerizzi] *Another gruff nod, and the tightening of lips that must pass as a smile among Glasswalkers. Or perhaps only the DeTerizzi family. His card is from Bulgur's greenhouse - presumably where he works if the plant was any indication. Another nod to Fireclaws.*

I leave you to your rabbits. I'm in the caern, or on top of the brotherhood most days. Find me when you want to court that spirit.

*Eyes a strangely luminous green rise to the jarl as Owen takes her information in a dirt stained hand, tucking it in his back pocket for safe keeping, turning to go. Business concluded.*

Goodnight and Good luck.

[Kora] Then, a subtle sort of inattention as she focuses inward. Listening to Patrick, her attention drawn out, before she returns. He might owe you that for a while, man. Some fucker's - it is rare to hear her curse, particularly in their mind. There's a sudden, immediate viciousness to it though. - tried to claim our mom.

Little wonder, since the woman with no pure breeding produced three true born garou. At least.

He's gone home to deal with it.

---

Even sharpened with that spike of inborn rage, Kora's smile is more natural, more full than Owen's. Her mouth is wide, naturally curved. He wishes her good night and good luck. She wishes him, "Good hunting."

[Owen DeTerizzi] [G-dub OUT! thanks for scene!]

[Patrick Llewelyn] Patrick shifts his cigarette from one hand, placing it in his mouth as he reaches out to accept the folder; his fingerprints will be left on it; smeared bloodily across it. He balances it on his knee and glances down at it without yet opening it.

"A shit storm, huh? Tell me about it."

He raises his eyebrows in expectation that she will do just that, as Kora tells him -- "What the fuck," a mutter, directed at nothing that makes sense around them, Patrick's expression distant, hazy a moment. What the fuck, repeated silently across the totem link.

I hope he kicks whoever it is around the neighborhood a few times. Izzy is showing me some info about something that went down the other night, you wanna come hear first hand or you trust my storytelling skills. He seems dubious about them, himself.

[Fire Claws] He watches the Glass walker depart the church while Kora still holds onto the rabbits. She made some sort of comment about cooking hers and he doesn't say much to that. He just watches her as she picks at the bag. And as he stands there before the Jarl, something seems to spark in his mind. Something he wonders about.

He listens to the reason for Linus' disappearance. But soon that is forgotten in place of his uncertainty about how to go about the subject that sits in his mind. Something that has wondered for some time. Maybe Kora can feel it across the link, an uncomfortable issue pressing his thoughts. She could certainly see it in his stance. He bounces on the balls of his feet, rolling his feet forward and back as he wonders how to say it.

"Fate~rhja. Aye gotta question for ya. Ok? Sumtin aye need ta ask ya."

[Fire Claws] (err.. Sorrow~Rhya. Sorry)

[Janis Ian] "What sort of shite?"

Janis isn't privy to the thoughts tumbling over a pack totem phone, she blinks as she stretches to stand, looking between the Fianna and the Fenrir kin out on the porch with her.

[Remy] [whoops, sorry guys, gonna drop ivan into the strip joint instead *LOL*]

[Izzy Montoya] The folder is far from pristine, with a coffee stain from her own cup, with pastry icing and crumbs from the moments in Kora's possession. She's not worried at all, then, that Patrick will add further grossness to the simple folder. Inside, is a sheet of paper, with typed information. Descriptions. A name - partial, and a name - full. Addresses. Times.

But it's the pictures that draw the eye, instantly. They show a break in a concrete path, a....thing - animated corpse at best - crawling out of it, snarling, screaming. And Izzy, gun drawn, hand steady, firing, in multiple frames. Close up. Dark eyes focused, determined, jaw tense and set. Another shot of her firing again, into the thing after it was killed.

She never forgets to double tap.
[She is strangely beautiful in these pictures, intensity bleeding from them. She is fierce. She is Fenrir.]

Other pictures are of a little girl, dancing, and posing proudly afterward with someone presumably her mother, in a self portrait of sorts.

"I was walking through Grant, and the paths were fuckin' blocked off, forcing a group of us to a single path. Broken water main, something, whatthefuckever. A woman - this one." she points to the mother in the picture. "Went past, then there was a scream. There was a kin - Delilah - and two Trueborn" Descriptions here, as she didn't get names - she describes Kieran and Natalie, to a T. "They approached from other paths. I saw a woman crawling from the concrete, intent on getting at that one." The mom. "I drew and fired. Delilah did as well. Almost shot the garou, as they jumped in the line of fire. They didn't shift, but they would have soon - could fuckin' feel it, you know?"

She pauses for a drag on her cigarette, and then nods as she exhales. "Delilah got in a good shot, then I killed it. Then saw the camera flash. Sent the True to deal with it, as I took that last shot, to make sure. The true asked for the camera, grabbed it, broke it. She told the Garou she was Olivia, and part of the Western Illinois Society for Paranormal Investigation and Research. There's the info I could get on it - not much. Bunch of fuckin' crazies looikin for the crazier shit. She wanted to keep the pictures as 'proof' of supernatural presences." She snorts. "The garou bickered back and forth, and then wandered off, pleased they'd gotten the camera. Olivia ran off, but looked back. Both Delilah and I saw where she was lookin - knew she stashed something. Delilah found the memory card. Those are the pictures that were on it."

She pauses, and takes another drag. "I dunno if ya wanna go find this chick, but if ya do, out of the 39 dance studios in Chicago that teach tap dance, 7 had recent recitals. I included all the addresses and class times for that kids age groups. Should help ya find her if ya need to."

Thorough, that's Izzy.

[Kora] I trust your storytelling skills. The Fenrir returns, mind-voice wry in the aftermath. She does not add to Patrick's wishes about Linus success, though there's a certain non-verbal response in the back of her mind, like a greek chorus, hear hear, hear hear. Fervent, tinged with the rage she swallows rather than spends these nights.

"Lemme put these in the cooler, yeah?" she remarks to Fire Claws, bending carefully over, picking up one of the spare coolers from underneath the card table and loading the fresh kills into the cooler. There's a moment half-way through when the smell of raw meat and blood just hits her wrong; wrong entire. She grimaces, mouth pulling flat across her teeth and swallows hard, then finishes the task and leaves the feral Garou's back empty on the floor beside the table.

"C'mon," quietly to Fire Claws when she's finished. There's blood on her hands now; she wipes it off on the thighs of her jeans, the gesture familiar and remembered. "Let's walk." And so she begins, walking back toward the altar through the vast, open space of the sanctuary. "What's on your mind?"

[Janis Ian] (needing to bail out! sorry)

[Fire Claws] There is a sort of unease about walking along your elder while you have a question that needs to be addressed, something that was.. almost a question of her authority to the lupus born. He knew his duty was to council, that was what a forseti was there for, but part of him readied himself. A challenge brewing at the edge of his mind.

He walks with his alpha as she suggested they do so. His pace matching with her own, his steps just slightly behind her own, giving his alpha potential for leading if she so decided to do so. A natural action ingrained in the feral born brain of Fire Claws.

"Aye 'erd word dat ya feel useless, dis tru'?"

His eyes were on her now, sharp and intense. Still not meeting with her own, not openly challenging her right to lead, merely focused on her cheek at the moment as he listens and waits.

[Kora] Her reaction is sharp and immediate. She's a half step ahead of him, somehow both waddling and prowling, expending energy that has no place to go except into her body and back out. Some law about conservation of energy, some fucking lay of physics comes to mind.

"Who the hell told you that - " it's a question, but her voice does not rise at the end to mark it out as such. He is looking at her cheek, her eyes are on his face. Direct and without filter now. There's a way she bristles, squares her shoulders and pulls herself further upright, expanding her spine to give her further illusion of height. The voice is low and intense.

[Patrick Llewelyn] Patrick is silent, a smoking figure as Izzy talks of her experiences in Grant Park. He examines the pictures she's drawn, shifting his stance a little and flipping pages, the cigarette smoking, held gingerly between two fingers while he holds open the folder and reads; glances up at her sharply once or twice when she mentions some Paranormal Investigation Unit.

Some chick with a camera.
A child dancing.

He's silent for a moment longer when she's done, contemplating everything. "Ghost Hunters and all, huh," he surmises, scratching his cheek with blunt fingertips. Patrick's eyes in the dark are twin points of vivid blue. "Fucking fantastic," he breathes out, chuckles lowly. Then closes the folder, hoists it up a minute.

"I'll look into the kid. S'good work, Detective."

He's smiling vaguely, without more than what he says. Must be a compliment.

[Izzy Montoya] She shrugs, slightly. "It's what I do." It's who she is.

She flicks the ashes from the edge of her cigarette, takes a final drag and kills the cigarette against the step at her hip. She scrubs her hands across her face, and takes a breath - then simply lets it go again. "Didn't know if you'd consider ehr a loose end, or whatthefuck ever. The other two idiots were too busy fighting, an' fuckin telling me to quit being a jerk to realize the bitch got one over on them." A shrug. "So yeah. If ya need anythin' else, lemme know."

She stretches slightly, then looks up to meet his gaze, a little smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Wouldn't consider a Halo rematch, tonight, would ya?" That she asks, speaks to how deep the need of company she feels tonight, even if she doesn't say it, even if she doesn't ask for what she really needs.

Company. Time spent with someone who gets her.

[Fire Claws] In the wild, when a lesser wolf addresses a greater wolf there is a certain dance involved, even more so within a pack. A careful test of boundaries and status, should the line be crosses violence occurs. Challenges are set forth in such a manner. Status either established, or disrupted.

To Fire Claws there is no difference even among true born, two-leg and feral born alike. He listens to her response, process how she reacts and pushes the boundary that much more. A need to council, to defend the standard of the Fenrir. Leaders must be tested and proven, it keeps the pack strong, keeps them hungry. Keeps them well among the best.

Kora meets his question like a proper predator should, making her bigger, seem more fierce. Determined to shake him from his course. But he was not mere prey, no wuss. He met her reactions with fery intensity. His voice deeper, more vicious in its snap. A low, gutteral retort.

"Does aint matter. Is dis tru?"

[Patrick Llewelyn] Prayers to Broken Stone tucks the folder under one arm, and straightens; stretching slightly. A grimace knits his brow as the movement reopens the slashes in his side. "I'll go show this stuff to Kora, get her take on it first before I do anything with it." A beat, she wants a Halo re-match and the Fianna's eyes -- well, to coin a cliche -- twinkle.

He studies her a moment.

"Tell you what, come inside and have a beer with me, need to slap something on my cuts and bruises, oh," he glances down at his pocket. "And give these to the right spirits or whatever." With that, the Galliard moves up the steps and pushes into the Church itself; the door wearily giving to the Garou's pressure against it with a creaking the reverberates inside.

[Kora] "It does matter," Kora returns, hands on her hips now. It's all part of the dance; and it's enough to bring the riding tension in her body forward, to pull it out of her. Make it part of her stance. She has an attractive face; sharp jaw but a generous mouth, dark eyes framed by blond brows and pale lashes, a certain openness that seems human, inviting. But the curve of her mouth is flattened, now - a flash of white teeth evident between her unpainted lips as she draws the expression wider. " - because it's not true."

That's a flash; another gleam of teeth in her mouth before she presses her lips together and lifts her chin dismissively toward something in the middle distance. "I'm a liability in a fight with the enemy right now. There's no question about that. But I'm not useless." Dark eyes refocus on Fire Claws, then. "Now, who told you this?"

[Izzy Montoya] "What, no sponge bath from Janis?" Lips curl into a smirk, as she pushes to a stand, and studies him for a moment. Then, she shakes her head, slightly.

"I'm gonna head home. Have Kora call if she has any questions." A beat, and then the slightest curve of her lips. "I think I'll indulge in bath, myself. You know your way, if you decide to join."

And with that, she watches him push the door open, and inside, before she turns and heads back down the walk, and toward her car, and the hot water that awaits her at home.

[it's bedtime for Lessa!]

[Izzy Montoya] [thanks for the sceneage. Night!]

[Patrick Llewelyn] [Night Lessa! Thanks for RP!]

[Kora] (chases!)

[Fire Claws] There is nothing seemingly more opposite than the way Kora and Fire Claws look. He is a beast, a monstrousity within human skin. There is no beuaty in his features, nothing that would even be remotely considered human, or inviting. He was feral born and it was painted within everything he did. Only the dark, intense gaze of there eyes and the reaction of teeth bared with teeth shown are all that seem common between the Jarl and the forseti.

His tongue plays with the weak, insults called caninies as she explains away his question. That she is not worthless, that her purpose for the time being has merely shifted. And in this, Fire Claws takes a step back, no longer pressing the thin line between challenge and mere council. Instinctly he recognized the importance of the alpha-female during birthing. How it kept the pack strong for future generations, that was why he made sure all his hunts came to her first, even when there was only enough for one mouth to feed. It was ingrained in his DNA, to provide for her so she could make them stronger.

He ponders this once more and thinks about the source, was it a trick or was the rotagar testing him? Seeing if he could catch the no moon within a lie. If so... he had failed, badly.

"Mayba aye be'n fooled."

A scowl across his face now.

"DAMN ROTAGAR. Aye will fine dat womin and kic' her ass."

[Kristen Burke] She hadn't been to the Church in a while. Well, truly she'd only been the once to visit Adara. But she'd been told she could come back and so she did today. Besides, she knew Patrick had clothes there and she had that niggling question that was bothering her.

She came bearing cookies that she baked earlier. A good idea when coming unannounced to bring gifts. It softens most toward you and keeps your head from getting bit off right away. She steps up in her lovely green dress with leafy embroidery and knocks gently on the door.

[Patrick Llewelyn] Patrick, headed into the Church makes a bee-line at first to some out of the way corner, high up, wedged above one of the windowpanes he reaches up and with a grunt, drags his body up til his nose is eye-line with the top most edge of it; reaching into his pocket with his other arm he takes out the pair of eyes; lidless and monstrous; deposits them above the window for whatever spirit it was Linus kept chiminage with therein and; muscles corded with the strain, lowered himself down.

Dropping, the Fianna collected up the files Izzy had handed him and headed for the kitchen.

--

When he emerges, Prayers to Broken Stone has more objects stowed under his arms; cigarette gone from between his lips and replaced with a wad of what appeared to be bandages; or talens disguised as such. He sets himself up along one of the many pews and deposits his items.

Drags the soiled shirt over his head with a grimace, twists to examine his side; four jagged claw marks marring his skin. The Fianna's back was a testament to more such encounters, there were several smaller scars tracing it; many situated across his lower back; some criss-crossing his spine. On one shoulder, a black dragon breathed out fire, rearing back on its legs. Beneath it, a foreign phrase was etched into Patrick's skin.

So this is how Kristen discovers the Welshman; sans his shirt, patching himself up. "Come in!" He hollers; his voice muffled, teeth gripping a wad of cotton as he wipes clean his side.

[Kristen Burke] She pushes open the door slowly and steps inside. Her eyes land on Patrick and she starts to smile then sees the wounds and frowns a touch instead. "Would you like some help with that?"

Without waiting for an answer she moves closer and sets the box of cookies to one side and looks over the wounds though she does not try to take over yet. She waits for a reply before she will actually do anything.

[Kora] There's tension drawn between the pair of them; that much is obvious to Patrick from the crackling energy along the totem link, from the way the pair of Fenrir stand - too close to be simply conversing. Then it - eases. Fire Claws steps back, and Kora breathes in, shoulders lifting with the breath. Her whole body lifting with it: gravid stomach pulling the shape of her hooded sweatshirt forward, zipper pulls dancing quietly with the lifting breath.

"That's between you and her," Kora returns when he threatens to beat the damn Rotagar, a brief shake of her pale head. A supple twist of her mouth follows, wry and half-human, followed by a lilting half-shrug before she concedes. "It's just possible that I needed this reminder, though. I'm gonna go check in with the Hrafn." A glance back toward the front door, then. She can smell the cookies. " - save me a cookie, yeah?"

[Kora] (and that! I think is my exit post. is late and lizes are long since pumpkins on nights like these!)

[Fire Claws] (Thanks for the scenage)