Daniel Broken Hammer

[Joey] Last night, all but one of the Sentinels went out into the night, to patrol and protect the city that is their home. What they found out there last night was astonishing, to say the least. They and the lone wolf, She Who Offers Sorrow, found a pack of Red Talons in the city, on a rooftop as they broke through the Umbra. Something happened to at least one of their number at that meeting.

The last words Joey Oliver said before her ability to reason rationally, her ability to think like a human being was stripped from her mind, were:

Oh my god it's a fucking Red Talon.

She doesn't remember much after that. Her memory of the space between those words, and when she "woke" to find an enemy lupus bearing down on her unconscious brother, is foggy. Dreamlike. She remembers, though, that she not only disobeyed orders, she completely disregarded them. She paid for that last night, when her alpha brought her to the brink of death three times, once for each time she ignored him.

When the Sentinels returned to The Brotherhood last night, Joey was too exhausted to take a shower and clean from hersef the stain of her own blood and the blood of her enemies. So she shifted to her smallest form, and she curled up on the floor beside her bed, to sleep and to heal.

The Rotagar is cleaned now. She's in room 8, tugging a long-sleeved shirt over her blonde head. She's already in jeans and a faded t-shirt. Pulling a pair of clean socks from the top drawer of the dresser, Joey goes to her bed and pulls her sneakers from beneath the edge of the frame.

[Daniel] There's now space for four in Room 8, though at present only one body occupies it. That soon changes, and without warning: the air in the room abruptly expands outward as Daniel appears out of thin air.

The Forseti's a strange one. Quiet and alert as a ragabash; a spirit as strong as a theurge; the memory of a galliard when it comes to his own misdeeds; and blind wrath to rival any ahroun's.

He's a half-moon, though, charged with the dual and conflicting duties of absolute truth and absolute neutrality. The black and the white, the good and the evil, as well as the two faces to every issue.

The Forseti is ridiculously dressed for the weather. He's barely dressed at all. He has his underwear on, and nothing else. There's snow on his hair and snow ... oddly, along his back and flank. Running in lupus, then, which would explain why he's not freezing, why his teeth aren't chattering. He sits down on the bottom bunk of his bed and scuffs snow out of his shortcropped hair before it melts, then grabs a towel and wipes down whatever has already beaded to water.

"I have some questions about last night, sister," he says to Joey, "but I know you are still bound by your vow. So I will ask you questions, yes or no, and you may simply nod or shake your head. Will that be an acceptable compromise?"

[Joey] Joey's alone in room 8, and then suddenly she's not anymore. She doesn't startle or flinch when the empty space is filled with her nearly naked brother. The spirit wards put in place by the Sentinels' Theurge are gone now that the metis is dead, but still, Joey sits as if Daniel's appearance is not unexpected. When she turns to look at him, she can guess why he'd enter the room via the Umbra. She doesn't blush at his near nakedness, or duck her head away. Sharing a room together means all three Sentinels who live here have seen each other in various states of undress. And Joey proved months ago that she doesn't care who sees her without clothing.

She's gotten her socks on. When Daniel offers her a compromise, a way to communicate without breaking her vow, she's bent over to pick up one of her sneakers. Instead of putting it on, she sets it back on the floor, brow furrowed thought. It's a wonder he'd even ask or take her vow into account. After last night, it's very likely they all think she shattered that vow apart, when she spoke up over the totem link for the first time in weeks. The rules of the vow are flexible, however, and depend on what Joey thinks of what she wants to convey, if she wants to convey anything at all.

If Daniel has forgotten that, Joey sees no reason to remind him now. She sits up straight, pulling her legs up and turning so that she can face him while they "talk." Joey's spine is straight, her hands resting on her knees, but her head she keeps bowed.

She nods once.

[Daniel] Daniel gets right into it: "Did you mean to disobey orders?"

[Joey] Joey frowns. She shakes her head once.

[Daniel] "Were you frenzying?"

[Joey] Another shake.

[Daniel] "Possessed?"

[Joey] Another shake.

[Daniel] Daniel frowns, puzzled. He pushes his palms into his mattress and withdraws into the cave beneath the bunks, back to the wall.

After a moment, "You asked Hatchet last night if the Talons had ... done something to him. Is that what happened to you? They did something to you?"

[Joey] There's a short pause this time, before Joey answers. Then she nods once.

[Daniel] "Were you aware that you were disobeying orders?"

[Joey] Joey's brow furrows thoughtfully. She shakes her head.

[Daniel] "Were you aware there were orders at all?"

[Joey] She shakes her head again.

[Daniel] "Were you ... deafened somehow?"

[Joey] Joey's mouth quirks. Her right hand comes up to scratch just above her ear while she lets out a sigh. When her hands are back on her knees, with her chin still tilted in deference to Daniel, Joey raises dark eyes to meet his.

"Buried Hatchet said I could talk if it's important, fewest words. Can I describe?"

[Joey] [Joey and Dan are in room 8, but the door's open!]
to Daniel,

[Joey] [Joey and Dan are in room 8, but the door's open!]
to Daniel, Rory MacKenna

[Daniel] "If you think it's important," Daniel replies.

[Rory MacKenna] ((you guys mind if I join, It might fuck up your flow))
to Daniel, Joey

[Joey] Joey nods, once. She thinks about what she's going to say, how she can get it across clearly with the fewest words possible.

"Not deaf. No...thinking. Only instinct. No pack ranks? Only answer Alpha. Attack biggest, closest threats." Her head drops, her eyes go to the floor. "Like animal."

[Rory MacKenna] ((ok, i'm coming in. Hope i don't upset the scene. I tend to do that))
to Daniel, Joey

[Daniel] "Could you ... speak? Communicate at all?"

[Joey] Back to head shakes and nods for yes/no questions, Joey shakes her head.

[Daniel] Daniel frowns again, leaning down further in his bed, his shoulders to the wall now; the rest of him all but prone.

A sudden change of tack. "Do you think the Alpha is acting strangely?"

[Rory MacKenna] He walks slowly, calmly into room 8, hands in his pockets. He stops in the door way seeing the serious conversation that is going on. He looks at both of them. First at Joey and then at Daniel. "feck." It's quiet barely over a whisper. His Bostonian accent comes out immediately. He slouches his shoulders more than usual and allows the black Celtics hate to cover his eyes. This is a bit more serious than I expected. Just needed gas for my bike. He's not a menacing individual standing only 5'6", but underneath his brown hoody and leather jacket, one can still make out the size of the muscles on his body. He thinks for a moment. He lifts his head and tries to act friendly. He coughs. "Hey, uh...excuse me, folks. Didn't mean tah intah-rupt ya convasation, but I ran outah gas and saw this place and thought I'd be able to get some help on wheh to get some gas." He thinks about where he is, not the distance for society, but rather the state of Illinois. If either one of these fucks say "pahk the cah in hahvahd yahd to me... He smiles trying to seem inconspicuous. The scar that follows his lips from jaw to jaw makes his mouth look much like a puppets.

[Izzy Montoya] She enters via the backdoor, through the kitchen, and then dumps her armload of stuff onto the table in the corner booth that's become "hers" over the past few nights. She's a creature of routine, and has adapted this one easily enough, despite it's annoyances. In fact, one might say she's made it her own. Sarge is glad enough for her additional presence at work, despite the fact that he can't put her on the books for it, despite the fact that looking at her is driving many of the boys crazy. Just one word, that's all they want. One. They'll move out in mass if she just lifts a finger in one direction.

But she doesn't and they call her a stubborn ass bitch - behind her back - and try to figure ways to get the information. If not from her, from someone else. They have their ways, and one of theirs never gets beat without retaliation. Izzy simply ignores it all, and works twice as hard as she had before -and she was a machine before.

The rules state she must be here. They do not state she must sleep, or that she must be upstairs. Thus, she makes one trip to the bar, slides cash under the register, grabs the bottle of whiskey and a glass, and then settles into the booth. Soon, her laptop is powered on, file folders organized, and the evenings push of paperwork begins.

[Joey] The Hatchet they saw last night was not the same Garou Joey has known these past several months. None of them can ever be said to be completely "safe." They all exert some level of control over their rage, however strong, because it's Rage. The Garou are Gaia's Warriors, designed to spend their fury in battle to ensure victory over the Wyrm. That fury only gets stronger with time, makes them more unpredicable, more unstable.

Hatchet has more rage than most Ahrouns. Joey also knows that he has far more control than most of them, too. What they saw last night was not Hatchet-in-control. Joey was weak, and her weakness made her susceptible to a loss of control. She disregarded orders, acted like a wild beast. There is no doubt in her mind that she deserved punishment.

Daniel asks if she thinks the Alpha is acting strangely. Joey's dark eyes widen, and she nods. Unlike her answers to previous questions, Joey nods several times, emphatic.

And that is when a strange man steps into their doorway. At 5'6" most wouldn't think the man in the leather jacket is very menacing, but most who see Joey would think she was just an ordinary athletic teenager. She's pretty and tall and blonde, and last night when a corrupted Red Talon aimed its jaws for her brother, Joey tore out its throat.

As soon as his presence is sensed in the doorway, the Rotagar twists to face him, head down, eying him warily. He talks about finding The Brotherhood, making his way to the dorms on the second floor, as if this were just any ordinary restaurant with dormitory rooms. Daniel, and the rest of their pack, will feel Joey's end of the totem link open up, then abruptly closed.

Like a mouth opened to speak, then quickly snapped shut again.

[Daniel] There might've been more -- but Rory appears, stepping not merely to the door but into the room itself.

This is a crowded room. There are three beds in here, one of them a bunk. Three desks. Closest and dressers. Piles of crap on one of the desks, one of the beds.

In contrast, the bed that Daniel is currently rising out of -- instantly and with the sort of defensive bristling of a wolf defending turf -- is exceedingly neat. The blankets are folded at one end, the pillow stacked atop. The sheets are clean and crisp, though rumpled now where the Forseti had lain.

"Who are you?" he all but barks at Rory. "Where did you come from? What are you doing in here?"

[Rory MacKenna] Rory tries to seem polite as possible, not easy for a man with a massive scar across his face. He keeps his hands in his pocket and smiles sweetly, which makes him look more like a demon than a friendly soul. "Now, hold on a second, heah folks. I didn't mean to intah-rupt nothing. Just was driving through and ran outa gas. Figured that I could come in and find someone to help me out." He looks at both of them. This could become very bad very quickly. "I heahd ya voices and walked up the stairs. I don't usually walk into othah people's places like this, but it was the only place around here. So, I figahed I had to give it a try." What's my name? He looks the other man in the room. He tries to judge his features, it's hard to tell. Well, sometimes it's just better to tell the truth. Don't want to fuck this up. I don't know this guy. I don't know his style. If I have to I'll try other alternatives after this. "Names Rory." He does his best to enunciate his name. "And I know I look like a feckin' monsta' but I'm not. It's not really important wheh I got this." He points to his face. "I just need gas, and then I'll get the feck outta ya place. Give me a chance. If I wanted to haht anybody, I wouldn't have come in here anouncing that I was here." His dialect is rough, South Boston and street. He does his best to smooth it over

[manipulation + subterfuge, diff 8]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 8) [WP]

[Daniel] The Forseti -- because that's what he is, though Daniel doesn't have a drop of pure blood in him -- lifts his chin, narrows his eyes. Stripped down to old boxers, wiry-lean and almost devoid of even the most basic, insulating body fat, he's a barbaric thing, feral, not human at all.

He sniffs the air. Carefully, and for a long time.

"You're Garou," he states. It's not a question but a statement. There's a light, unplaceable accent in Daniel's voice, and a strange stiff formality to his speech. "Count yourself lucky to have stumbled blind upon your own kind. The Brotherhood of Thieves is a safehouse for all those of the Garou Nation. It is neutral territory, but this room belongs to the pack of Bear, the Sentinels.

"You will introduce yourself properly."

There's clear dominance in Broken Hammer's words, but his posture betrays a stark tension, a wariness on being intruded upon; an uncertainty of who, really, is the stronger wolf here.

[Joey] It doesn't matter where any of them got their scars. Joey has at least one clearly visible, a mass of pale scar tissue in a slash across her throat, where someone once tore it out, killing her.

Daniel rises, crosses the room to meet the intruder on their territory, and Joey is a step behind him. It's all the territory The Sentinels claim. This room, half of the one beside it, room 1, and a citrus green Camaro with black racing stripes parked in the back lot. They're theirs. Rory introduces himself. He spins a tale about a lack of gas, and finding The Brotherhood of Thieves, wandering into the kitchens and up to the second floor, around the hall and into their room as if he had no clue of where he'd found hisme.f If Joey could talk, or rather, if she thought it were important to speak now, she would snarl three words.

Bull. Fucking. Shit.

Daniel announces that the stranger is Garou, declares the intrusion for what it is. Joey stands behind him, at his shoulder, wary and tense, poised for a possible altercation. Of the two Garou in the room, her blood is the most notable. Joey carries with her an aura of breeding, of vikings and conquerors and Nordic heroes.

She says nothing, does nothing. Just waits.

[Rory MacKenna] Rory begins to shake his head in disdain and then stops. He nods. Fucking introductions. It's just so much easier living with humans. He backsteps out of the room and looks through the doorway. He looks at Daniel.

"Rory MacKenna, Fianna Ahroun and Cliath. My Sept is Staghead, Bahston. Permission to enter?" He waits outside calmly. Fucking Litany... He removes his hands from his pockets and set them at his side. There's no point in trying to explain anything else to them. He sniffs the air, but tries to do it as inconspicuously as possible. The males a Garou. He looks at the girl. In any other situation he might make kissy faces and other rude gestures, but he's in a strange Garou's home and mocking her would just lead to violence. I just want my fucking gas tank filled. He's tense, but not scared. If he has to fight the Garou he will. It would be the first blood he's shed outside the state of Massachusetts.

[Daniel] Daniel nods once, curtly. He stands his ground for a second or so after Rory's stopped moving, and only then sits back down on his bunk bed.

"I'm Daniel Broken-Hammer, Fenrir Half Moon and Cliath. This is my packmate Joey Laughs in the Face of Death, Fenrir No Moon and Cliath. She is under a vow of silence and likely will not be speaking to you. Do not take this as an insult.

"We are wolves of the Sept of the Maelstrom, packed under Great Bear. Our Alpha is Buried Hatchet, Fostern Half Moon of Stag's tribe, and your tribal leader in the city. He is not here right now. But you must present yourself to him if you want to stay in this protectorate."

[Rory MacKenna] "Don't take it as an insult." He says. Fucking Fenrir jackass. He smiles. And walks in. "Yeah, well...that's great will do. Buried Hatchet, got it." He nods. He looks at the almost naked man. How the fuck did I not notice this before. Well, catastrophe averted. Time to figure out how to get my bike moving. "But seriously, my bike is outside and out of gas. But, I'll leave you two to whatevah yah doing." He turns and leaves the room and through the halls to the stairs. He whistles as he walks. He sits down at the bar for a second and think. He speaks out loud to no one in particular. "How close is closest gas and is it closah than the nehest packy?" He shakes his head and get up and walks out the door to his motorcycle. He stares at it intently.

[Grace] She was looking for Echo.

Somewhere, Grace got it into her head that, if anyone could put things on her iPod, it would be a Glass Walker. She wanted more music. Or another book, or something that would teach her French or Estonian. (God, that was going to be an awkward thought: what if Grace understood and grasped the entirety of Estonian before she understood English. Who even speaks Estonian anyway?)

but no matter, the lupus, in a pair of jeans recently laundered and a shirt that had holes in the collar, wandered off to room eight, holding her iPod.

Someone was looking for something, though, and she thought, and finally-

There was a man moving and leaving room eight, talking about how to find the closest gas station. She looks genuinely pleaed, because she knew and understood one thing: that man was looking for something. And Grace was good, very very good, at finding things.

She isn't entirely certain what humans do, but whether the door was open or not, she knocks on it anyway.

[Izzy Montoya] Someone comes into the bar, sits down, says something, and then bangs right back outside again. Izzy hardly has time to lift her gaze, start to form an answer, before he's gone again. She just sakes her head, refills her drink, and goes back to her paperwork.

[Echo] Echo Quinn never does bother to announce herself, she just appears like some 5'7 apparition of lean muscle and dark looks. Hair, eyes; both dark and the latter far more alert and intelligent than most deem to attach to her. The Glass Walker had been working, and it was in her work that her blood ran truest of all. She could try and speak of her job, of the sensation she felt strapped to her seat in the cabin, her fingers gripping the throttle, her feet pushing at the pedals, of the knowledge that as the Helicopter grew light on the skids and began to lift off, she was the only one keeping it from faltering left or right -- she was what kept the entire thing level, her focus, her knowledge kept the heading.

And once in the air, with the beating of the blades above her, gaining altitude, the city spread out beneath her like a glittering carpet -- she was home, and she was never more content.

Now, however, someone [Grace] is looking for her and she'll Echo Quinn moving down from the roof, even though it's fucking freezing outside, still dressed in her flight uniform with a coat thrown over it and smelling like cigarettes.

[Echo] [ahem, she'll find, words in places are good.]

[Joey] Daniel sits back down. With that movement, the tension melts from Joey. She's not completely at ease, but at least there is no longer a sense that she's going to leap across the distance and bite his face off.

She does that sometimes. Bites faces. It's not something she generally does in homid, however.

Rory's bike needs gas. Joey steps to her desk, the tidy one closest to the door, finds a notebook, a pen, and tears out a blank page. Before she can so much as get a line onto the paper, the Ahroun is gone. Joey glances once over her shoulder at Daniel, then goes back to her blank sheet. She works quickly, hastily. And then she's off, running down the hall, down the stairs and into the kitchen. She peeks out into the dining room, just in time to catch his back as he heads out the front door.

Growling, Joey runs out the door leading from the kitchen to the alley behind The Brotherhood. In her socks. In less than 30 degree weather without a coat. The desert girl has come a long way since the weather began to turn back in September. Joey races around the building with all the speed and power she used to use rounding second to third base, and third to home. When she catches the Ahroun, she's not even out of breath.

Silently, she holds out the sheet of notebook paper to him. On it is a map of the area, with gas stations. And approximate prices. And hastily jotted notes about the closest garages.

[Rory MacKenna] He stares at the bike. Well, I know what's wrong with it. The fucking thing is out of gas. But how do I alleviate this problem. He stares at bike, as if his mind would force it to run. Son of a bitch, I'm actually going to have to deal with those fucks to get what I want. Fenrir Jackass. He paces back and forth. He turns around to see a woman in front of him. Taller than him. "Well, Hello." He smiles. He looks at the paper. He frowns. "Oh...thanks." He takes the paper from her hands, puts it in his pocket. "...thanks..." He repeats it again, slowly. Something about her not speaking makes him feel like he's speaking to a handicapped person, and this causes him to speak slowly. As if she wouldn't understand him otherwise. He walks away from her and leans back his bike and kicks his legs up on the ape hanger handle bars. He pulls the paper from his pocket and stares at it. "Son of a bitch, gas is really that much..." He calms. "Ok, so i'll have to go..." He starts to map his root in his head.

[Rory MacKenna] ((route))

[Grace] She waited by the door of room eight, but hears no sound nor does she see familiar sights of the Glass Walker in question.

It was strange, because as she went to go look for her in the usual haunts, rather than getting on four legs and simply sniffing for the Glass Walker, she was musing about the weaver of all things. It made sense, of course, because she was looking for Echo. It made sense because she was in a city, and she wondered, briefly, what things looked like from the other side. How solid this particular structure was in the umbra.

Half a grin started to cross her face and now she was looking for Echo for a different reason. She needed to acquire a Fostern.

[Daniel] It's probably best that Rory didn't ask Daniel where to get gas. He would've received little more than a blank stare. It's Joey that passes the information on, though, literally running out of room 8 -- right past Grace, most likely -- to catch up with the departing Ahroun.

For his part, Daniel stays behind. He withdraws into the little alcove his bottom bunk creates, throws a blanket over himself, and closes his eyes. Time to sleep.

[Joey] He thanks her, and the corners of Joey's mouth begin to lift in a small smile. And then he repeats himself, slowly, as if there's something fundamentally wrong with her brain and she won't understand that one single word. The smile...vanishes. Over the past several months, Joey has grown increasingly more withdrawn, more silent and subdued. This Garou doesn't know that, however. He doesn't know anything about Joey beyond what Daniel said up in room 8.

All he knows is that she's silent, and that right now her expression is absolutely deadpan. It's an Are you serious? kind of look.

She follows him over to his bike, circling it once, ignoring the absolutely frigid cold, the wind that tries to slice through her skin when it whips across the street. Her attention is focused on the Harley. She can't tell him that she knows what it is, or that she could fix practically anything that could ever go wrong with it (except for his current fuel issue).

He starts to assert his route in his head, and Joey fights the urge to play dumb, to act like maybe Daniel made this map for him. Instead she walks around the bike again to look over his shoulder at the map she made. She reaches out to take it from him, if he'll let her, and she turns it 90 degrees. Taps the little square marked "Broho," jerks her thumb over her shoulder at the restaurant. And she points in the direction he'll want to start off in.

[Echo] The urrah in question appears as though she was summoned by the Cub, her pack of Marlboro's in hand, making her way casually down the hall toward Room 8. She's yawning, and stretching her arms high above her head, doing something of a dance as she does and then the yawn develops into a smile as she catches sight of Grace.

"Hey, kid," she greets her with a nudge, tucking her smokes into a pocket in her coat, her dark hair tousled around her face in stylish disarray. "You waiting for someone or did Daniel throw you out?"

[Grace] "Do you have iTunes?" she asks.

Grace doesn't know everything about life in a city, but she knows what iTunes does.

[Echo] The No Moon's eyebrows do a caterpillar dance, she adopts a true Brooklyn attitude and opens her coat wide, swinging back and forth. "Baby I got iTunes, I got iWork, I got iLife, I got the entire works for you right here, you want quality, I can get you quality, right here, right heeeere." She laughs, and drops the act.

"What you need somewhere to plug in? I got a laptop if you want. Lemme get it."

[Rory MacKenna] The paper is gone from his hands, and he pauses, staring at the air between his two hands. He looks up and sees the *deaf* woman. He stares at her upside down as he points in the direction to go. He frowns. "...I...see..." It isn't slow this time. Just shocked. He smiles. "Thanks, dahling." He swings his legs down and looks walks over to Joey. He plucks the paper out of her hand. "Right, that way, Got it." He goes back to his bike and leans back the way he was. The rain feels good on his face. He sits up and swings his legs again and walks behind the bike and pushes it closer to the side of the building to shed himself from part of the elements. He leans back a third time. He stares at the paper. He puts it back in his pocket, now soaked. He closes his eyes on the bike and enjoys the cool crisp air on his face. He lifts his head and pulls the hooded sweat shirt's hood over his Celtics hat and calmly, sits.

[Daniel] (thanks for the play!)

[GNARR] [okay, since it's just us right now... you know the rules *LOL* post and set us up while i make cheat sheets. we're in some poorly lit, trashstrewn, unpleasant street in the projects!]

[Face of Death] It's a little later than usual for evening patrols, but then, The Sentinels are known to leave The Brotherhood at irregular intervals to patrol the city. And for once, there are more than two of them walking the streets together.

This part of the city is ugly, run down. There are cracks in the pavement lined with black sealant that lead to tire eating potholes. Even at this late hour, loud music blares from the occasional upper level window. Shouting can be heard in some places. Scuffles, fights, shady people doing nefarious things.

They're not keeping an eye out for those things, however. Those are for the human law enforcement agencies to respond to. The Sentinels keep alert for worse things than drug dealers and crack whores.

Joey keeps a few feet ahead of the others. She's spoken very little, very rarely in the time since she took her vow of silence, and in that time she's learned a few things. She walks with her hands in the pockets of her coat, her sneakers making very little sound on the pavement as she walks ahead of her brothers.

[Word on the Street] Nate follows the rest of the pack. He had been quiet himself the last day or so, somewhat unusual for the guy that seemed to never shut up. So he didn't really mind that his packsister was silent. He had given her a side bump in greeting, before falling into step.

He was dressed in his usual wear, slightly worn clothes that looked barely fit to keep the cold out. But according to the reaction on his face it didnt.

[GNARR] Which makes three silent Sentinels, moving down the street in rough single file. This area is rough. No one comes out after dark. Even bums know better than to stick around here. The streets are rundown and full of potholes. Brick is faded. Windows boarded over. There are more dead streetlights than lit ones.

Joey leads. Nate trails. That leaves Daniel in the middle, hands in his pockets, walking the streets. They're on their way to meet their Alpha.

And then, rather abruptly, Daniel raises his head. He's frowning. A moment; then he shakes his head silently, dismissing it, and moves on.

They keep walking.

[roll percep+alert with your next post!]

[GNARR] [...vs diff 7, please.]

[Face of Death] Joey does her best to keep her senses alert. It's easier to notice things when you're not running off at the mouth, when you're not asking a hundred questions you likely already know the answer to.

In the front, she doesn't see Daniel lift his head to look around. Joey's dark eyes rove the street, trying to see into the shadows, ears strained for unnatural sounds.

[percept + alert diff 7]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 6, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Word on the Street] Nate distracted with his own thoughts, only stops at the last moment when he sees Daniels hand lift. Nate wondered if that was the hand that his packmate had used to beat Izzy. Nate didn't understand any of it, so had figured it was best not to get involved.

He looks around when they stop, trying to sense anything out of the ordinary.

[ Per + Ale diff 7 ]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 7)

[Word on the Street] [ Re-roll for Detail Orientated]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2 (Failure at target 7)

[Hatchet] [per + alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Sorrow] she who offers sorrow is not a Sentinel. She is not walking single-file with her packmates. She is not going to meet her Alpha. She has neither: packmates nor Alpha. She has a Jarl, and a few passing acquaintances in the city of Chicago. She has a long black wool coat, now. She has one fewer notebook, and a photograph of a street in Barcelona in her back pocket, folded in two, and then two again. She has blonde hair - long - except for the last six inches or so, which are a fading black from a several-year-old dye job she has never cut entirely off. The Fenrir woman stands at the edge of an empty lot on a barren street - weedy with overgrowth and glinting with discarded glass pipes, broken syringes, empty 40 ounce bottles of the cheapest malt liquor. Empty, seemingly.

There's something about seemings.

[Sorrow] Per (observant) + Alertness
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[GNARR] Well, if nothing else, Sorrow at least sees the Sentinels across the street!
to Sorrow

[GNARR] Joey and Nate can see Sorrow in the empty lot across the street. They can also see their Alpha about a block away, and Hatchet can, of course, see them.

In addition, they're aware of a distant keening, a wailing and sobbing. It's a human voice, and to say it sounds frightened and in pain would be a great understatement.

They only hear it when the wind blows right, though. Of the pack, Nate is most certain of which direction it comes from.
to Face of Death, Hatchet, Word on the Street

[Hatchet] Usually their patrols are in two-Garou groups. Joey is given the heaviest burden, the most nudges from the Alpha to go out and search the penumbra, search the blocks surrounding the Brotherhood, looking for signs of taint or corruption, danger, threat. Hatchet makes unapologetic demands of her in this area. She doesn't argue. Lately, she can't.

Granted, this vow of silence of hers is neither punishment nor ritual. It is about self-discipline. The only thing keeping Joey from speaking up is... Joey.

They rarely go alone, though, the Sentinels. Hatchet does, sometimes, but Hatchet is often doing two or three other things on top of patrolling. He's checking on Eugenie Terrace, which is just outside of the usual bounds they patrol in. He's studying at the library in between rounds, reading anything that might help him with... well, any number of problems he's considering. They all know he prefers if they stick together, two or three together at any time.

Tonight, the only one of them missing is Echo, and she's probably flying. Or sleeping after a long day of flying. When Hatchet nudged them across the totemlink, he didn't insist on her presence. He didn't 'insist' on anyone's, really.

He's sitting on a bench, a very ugly metal bench stained by the minerals left by snow that's melted off, rusting at the joints. He's sprawled, hands in his pockets and back slouched, knees apart, booted feet planted, and the hood of his jacket is up, the zipper at his throat. He hasn't been looking at any particular thing, except: he's starting to look at the coated figure in the empty lot, and he's starting to tip his head to the side, as though listening to something.

Almost lazily, seeing -- and feeling -- the nearness of his pack, he drags himself to his feet. The lankiness of the motion does not entirely conceal the inherent grace of it, the way he so easily rises and unfolds himself, back straightening and shoulders revealing their broadness. His hands stay in his hoodie's pocket.

[Hatchet] There's a wailing. Where's it coming from?

Because if they don't know already, they're damn well gonna help him figure it out.
to Face of Death, GNARR, Word on the Street

[Face of Death] Joey sees Hatchet up ahead, and the Fenrir who looks so much like a certain kinswoman across the street. It's when she has her head turned to the side that she hears the wailing, just a moment before Hatchet questions them over the totem link. The Rotagar stops, glances back at her brothers first to see if either of them can discern a direction.

[GNARR] Daniel is not looking in the direction of the wailing; he's looking across the street at his tribesmate in the empty lot. If she looks his way, he raises a hand in greeting, dour as ever. People are starting to call him that. Dour Dan. He doesn't know, of course. Probably wouldn't mind. Better than Rabid Dan, which he also is.

Word from his Alpha across the totemlink. The Forseti looks away, frowning as his eyes search the streets.
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 5

[GNARR] I can lead us there. Are we going to investigate?
to Face of Death, Hatchet, Sorrow, Word on the Street

[Hatchet] You bet your ass we are. A mental nod in a different direction. Invite She Who Offers Sorrow along. I'll head your way.
to Face of Death, GNARR, Word on the Street

[Sorrow] Kora turns; the wailing that the others have heard isn't within her ken - but she sees them, walking like a pack across the street, a line of human-skinned Garou in the darkness. Her chin rises as she sees them, and then she unearths her right hand from the depths of her pockets to return her tribesmate's wave. After a moment's consideration, the Skald ducks between two parked cars - one burned out, and never towed - crossing the street toward the other Garou.

[Hatchet] After a few moments of silence, his head tipped, Buried Hatchet starts to walk down the street towards his packmates.

[Word on the Street] Nate is looking in the direction of the wailing , though he acknowledges his Alpha when his presence touches his mind. The totem bound between them strong , as the distance between them draws closer.

[Word on the Street] Alpha, the wailing is coming from that direction lifting his hand as he points towards it.
to Face of Death, GNARR, Hatchet

[GNARR] They seem to be expecting her, these other Garou. As their Alpha joins them, the Forseti of the group turns to Kora.

"Come."

That's all she gets. All any of them get, for that matter. Daniel moves into the lead. He pushes the hood of his inner hoodie down, the better to see by. Without preamble, the wolf-lean Forseti drops into a steady, ground-eating jog.

He does not take the easiest path, the broad thoroughfares and the streets. Apparently unaffected by the filth, the Forseti leads them through dank alleys crowded with garbage and rot. Apparently unmindful of the physical strain, he leads them up fire escapes and emergency ladders, across rooftops thick with snow. He takes the most direct path, and before long even Sorrow can hear what it is the Sentinels seek:

the source of a long, piteous keening; a human voice in distress beyond words.

They are very near when Daniel stops at the base of a fire escape. He nods up at the roof.

"It's up there, Alpha."

[GNARR] (don't mind me.)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 4, 7, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Hatchet] When Hatchet nears the others -- Skald, Forseti, Rotagar, and Galliard -- he takes his hands out of his pockets and gives a nod to Kora, taking his hood down from his head as well. It isn't to keep from seeming like he's hiding something; it's to listen. And listen he does, even as he's giving marching orders in his mind to his packmates.

Nate, stay near Sorrow. Joey, to the rear. Daniel doesn't need to be told: he's up ahead, tracking, and Hatchet is several paces behind him, determining and maintaining the distance between scout and the group, keeping his brother in his sights.

When Daniel stops at the fire escape, Hatchet lengthens his stride, catching up in a few steps, bringing the rest of them with him. He tilts his head back and frowns. A few thoughts flicker through his thoughts, his private ones, and then he turns his head, finds Joey's eyes, and jerks his head at the fire escape. Apparently she is going to climb first.

[GNARR] (or me!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Hatchet] [*totally minds*]

[Face of Death] [dex + stealth]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[GNARR] (ahem)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[GNARR] Quietly, the packmates help Joey lower the last leg of the fire escape ladder. Quietly, the Ragabash moves up the three stories of rusted metal, her feet sure and soft on dusty grey snow.

Even so, as she nears the rooftop, the keening abruptly ceases.

[Sorrow] This is familiar, then: running in a pack, even if the pack is not her own and the form is wrong and the streets are not the high tablelands where she was fostered - she is running, and soon enough she knows why. Here's the thing: the Fenrir woman is silent. She takes her cues from the subtleties of their body language, the way pack translates for Garou even in little human tells. They fall into place - the Forseti leading, and then the Alpha arriving behind. She is silent, her face still, her head canted toward the high keening rising on the wind, watching the Rotagar make her silent way up the fire escape.

[Hatchet] Hatchet is the second up the ladder, following behind Joey as quietly as he can, as well. He's several rungs below her, however, when the keening stops.

[Hatchet] [dex + stealth]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Face of Death] Joey lets the others file ahead of her, and brings up the rear of their group. She keeps up with the pace easily, keeps alert of their surroundings. They weave through the alleys and dark passages, a pack (mostly) running in the night. Hunting.

The Rotagar, not nearly as good a tracker as her Forseti brother, clambers silently up the fire escape. She does her very best to call on old training, old instincts she let fall by the wayside over the years. She goes as quietly as she can.

And yet before she reaches the top, the keening stops. And so Joey stops as well, holding still as she listens intently. Slowly, she lifts her dark-capped head and peers up onto the roof.

[GNARR] The voice they heard was unmistakably human.

What Joey finds staring back at her across the rooftop, however, is not human. It is a wolf, large and healthy, fur dark and thick with winter. It stands with forelegs braced wide, head at shoulder level. It stares intently back at Joey.

It is pureblooded. Its purity of blood is so rare this deep in the city that it is almost unthinkable.

It is a Red Talon.

[Face of Death] Joey doesn't dare take her eyes away. She doesn't signal to her packmates. They hear her voice across the totem link for the first time in more than a week.

Oh my fucking god it's a Red Talon.
to GNARR, Hatchet, Word on the Street

[GNARR]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 5)
to Face of Death

[Word on the Street] Nate furrows his brow as he continues to climb "What on earth is a Red Talon doing here, this far into the city ?" he says aloud for the benefit of Sorrow who is either just above him or following behind.

[GNARR] (That was Beast Mind. For the next two turns, Joey's mental state and intellect are reduced to those of a beast. She will not be able to communicate what's happened to her to her packmates, so don't tell them OOC.)
to Face of Death

[Word on the Street] ((ignore that post please ))

[GNARR] When Hatchet is on the first landing of the fire escape, Daniel follows. When Joey's mindvoice comes across the link, the Forseti blows a breath in disbelief.

[Word on the Street] (( Okay everything but the continuing to climb stands ))

[Hatchet] Hatchet's next words are not restrained to the pack. Out loud, to Joey above him and Daniel below him and Nate and Kora on the ground: "Everybody up." And he begins climbing again, no longer bothering to keep silence.

[Sorrow] Sorrow climbs the fire escape in the Daniel's wake, her long fingers curled around the rusting iron. Flakes and filings - blood red and rust - shake free, raining down onto the street in their wake, dislodged with every step. The Forseti blows out a quiet breath above her, and then Nate clarifies. She herself gives a short, disbelieving huff, then, and tips her head back, looking up at the sullen orange glow that caps the city, always.

[Word on the Street] Nate waits for Sorrow and Hatchet to start climbing, and then he follows suit. Pushing upwards to bear witness to this Red Talon...it was going to make a hell of a story.

[GNARR] As their eyes lock, something...

changes in Joey's mind. It's like a vast pit abruptly yawns open in the center of her skull. All her wit and foresight, her conscience, her sense of morality and her sense of sacrifice, her judgment, her grasp future-present-past, slides into darkness.

Language is gone. Intellect is gone. All that remains is instinct. Fight and flight. She can't even convey to her packmates what has happened.
to Face of Death

[Face of Death] Like a faithful, obedient hound, Joey climbs up onto the roof at Hatchet's command. She stands with shoulders back, body tensed, wary, chin dropped and eyes on the lupus before them. If she were in another form, one with four legs instead of two, her ears would be erect, her tail straight but low behind her. She stands to the side, giving room for the others.

She continues to watch the wolf, a low growl issuing from the back of her human throat, warning. Or challenge, for the strange wolf in her city.

[Hatchet] A few moments later, Hatchet pulls himself up and over the ledge and onto the roof, moving into a crouch so his eyes are more or less level with the Talon's. It lowers his height but doesn't compact or conceal his size: his shoulders are straight still, his back slightly curved, his eyes intent. Joey issues the beginnings of a growl; Hatchet takes on a stance midway between dominance and respect, awaiting his pack -- and Kora -- at his back.

[GNARR] Now is when wolves would, through posture and perhaps a lunge or a snap or two, settle quickly and relatively bloodlessly whose territory this is. Who stands dominant. A single wolf faced with many allied wolves would likely turn away, ceding claim without much in the way of resistance.

A werewolf, no matter how feral, may stay to introduce himself, may announce his business before departing.

The Red Talon, however, does not show any sign of faltering. Or of respect. His head rises as the Alpha of the Sentinels shows himself. He holds himself erect, braced; there is almost arrogance in his dominance. His posture marks him as a wolf of Hatchet's rank.

Another of the Sentinels rises to the rooftop. Then another. And last, the lone wolf, Kora.

The Red Talon's eyes track between them. His ears swivel, alert. He locks eyes with the Skald for a second; then, without attempting any communication with the Sentinels and their ally, tips back his muzzle and howls.

The Garou of Chicago can feel the Gauntlet pushing, stretching, shredding.

[GNARR]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
to Sorrow

[GNARR] As their eyes lock, something...

changes in Kora's mind. It's like a vast pit abruptly yawns open in the center of her skull. All her wit and foresight, her conscience, her sense of morality and her sense of sacrifice, her judgment, her grasp future-present-past, slides into darkness.

Language is gone. Intellect is gone. All that remains is instinct. Fight and flight. She can't even convey to her allies what has happened.

[Kora is afflicted with Beast Mind for 2 turns. Ping me if you have questions. Don't tell the others OOC!]
to Sorrow

[Hatchet] [int + pu]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[GNARR] It's definitely some sort of summons -- a "Hey, come here!"
to Hatchet

[Hatchet] A low snarl issues from Hatchet's throat as the Red Talon sends out that howl, but it isn't a threat. Not just yet. He knows this territory isn't claimed by any pack. He knows that there's no Fostern Talon known to Maelstrom. He knows the presence of a Red Talon in the city like this at all is really fucking weird. He has no idea, however, who this particular Talon is calling.

The Sentinels and Kora have no words from Buried Hatchet then. There is only the Fostern Philodox shifting into hispo, flowing through forms until he reaches that large, hulking one meant for war -- or for dominating a wolf who refuses to so much as speak his name. He shifts, and continues that low, warning, wary snarl even as his silvery-gray eyes turn golden under the full moon.

[Hatchet] He's calling to someone. Something. Be ready; I don't like this.
to Face of Death, GNARR, Word on the Street

[Sorrow] The Fenrir woman meets the Red Talon's eyes, and her lips peel back from her mouth in a very real snarl - vocalized low in her throat, emitted as surely as if she were in one of the fur-skinned forms. She snaps her teeth at the at the talon, and stalks toward the beast. Hatchet's snarl is not a threat - but the strange Fenrir's snarl clearly is. Like the Alpha of the Sentinels, the Fenrir surges into hispo as she stalks forward, her face a rictus of threat. The wool coat she wears is not dedicated - it stretches at the seams and is then ripped apart at the back and side seams, down the long seems of the sleeves - before she hits the ground in her direwolf form - grey furred and massive.

The great beast snaps indiscriminately at Buried Hatchet and the Red Talon, her ruff bristling to make her massive form seem larger, beads of slaver dripping from her great jaws as she stalks forward.

[Face of Death] This strange wolf does not belong here in the city. His kind shun the human cities with their towers of iron and steel and glass, their pollution and corruption.

Hatchet arrives, alpha of pack, brother but leader. He moves ahead slightly, crouches down to be more on a level with the Red Talon, taking on a position of something like respect and dominance. Joey's growl stops and she defers to the alpha male, but she is no less poised for attack, to leap ahead and attack.

Aside from that growl, Joey hasn't communicated since her startled exclamation across her pack's minds. But that's to be expected. Until the next new moon, Joey is to remain completely silent.

And then it howls, and something begins to push through the Gauntlet, shredding it. Joey drops into a crouch, as well, except as she lowers her body, her figure grows. The growl begins anew, is carried through Glabro, Crinos. In Hispo she stops, hackles raised, ears back, black lips peeled from deadly fangs. She snarls and snaps, slaver arcing out onto the rooftop. Her pink tongue darts out, licking across the roof of her mouth. For a moment, she's like a dog on a tight leash, straining at the end of a chain.

Except there is no chain. Nothing is there to physially restrain the Rotagar. Hatchet growls warning to the Talon, doesn't like this. Joey's claws scratch and scrabble on stone.

And then she's off, snarling at a higher ranked Garou.

[GNARR] The lupusborn have spiritual might far superior to those born of man. It should be no surprise, then, that those who cross the Gauntlet now do so instantaneously.

From one side, Sorrow stalks forward. From the other, Face of Death.

Before they've moved a single pace, air displaces. A quick transient breeze on their faces. Three other wolves simply appear. Two dappled, one reddish-brown. Two male, and a single female. They come alongside the first, moving easily, powerfully under the full moon. The air breathes with their strength and power. The last of them is larger than the rest, and from the way he stands, is the alpha of the pack.

They are all Red Talons. Their tails move side to side, menacingly.

--

Beside his Alpha, Broken Hammer immediately takes the same shift, hitting the ground on four massive paws. His growl is half threat, half anxiety, swerving into startled rebuke as his pack-sister charges forward without warning.

--

Meanwhile, the four Red Talons grow to meet Joey and Kora, Hispo-formed themselves now, three flanking the fourth, moving boldly forward to meet what looks more and more like an onslaught.

The Alpha shows his teeth.

"Tainted Scab-wolves," he snarls. "You've forgotten who you are."

[GNARR] (Maintain beastmind!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 5)
to Face of Death

[Hatchet] Down and back! Hatchet might have said to both Kora and Joey, snarling and jaw-snapping at the Red Talons, but he does not echo Daniel's startled, nonverbal rebuke. The Alpha of the Talon pack bares his teeth and Hatchet's fur begins to stand on end. He growls right back, stepping in front of the Cliaths that have come with him:

"You've forgotten who your enemy is. We are pledged to the Caern here, we protect it. This place is the territory of the wolves of Maelstrom. You will name yourself."

[Sorrow] Sorrow's lupine lips peel back from her maw in response. The cindered roof crunches beneath her massive paws and her great head swings as she plants her front paws wide and firm - the low growl that started when she stood in homid continues now, building slowly like the roar of an approaching jet engine. The strangers - all strangers - are included in the sweep of her head as the growl builds itself into a sharp bark of wordless warning.

[Face of Death] Hatchet barks a command, and Joey pulls herself up short, claws scrabbling once again as she struggles to arrest her forward momentum. When she's still, her head is down, forelegs braced. Slaver drips from her exposed fangs to pool on the pavement beneath her jaws. Like She Who Offers Sorrow, Joey swings her massive head, directing that feral growl to the Talons.

And to Kora, how growls warning to all of them, including the Sentinels. Joey's packmates, her brothers. She stalks across the distance this time, circling behind Hatchet to stand between the Skald and the pack, head lowered. She keeps her attention to the Talon pack, who are the greater threat. But she is aware of Kora, always.

[GNARR] "Caern," sneers the Alpha. "A piss-hole amidst Wyrm-rubble. Submit and begone, Urrah! We are here by our Mother's true will!"

The rest of the wolves say nothing. The dark one, the first they met, snarls to keep Sorrow at bay. The female flanks her alpha in silence. The last, the red-brown one, lolls his tongue out. There's blood on his teeth.

[GNARR] (dark one: maintaining Beast mind!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
to Sorrow

[Face of Death] [dlp!]

[Face of Death] Joey doesn't pause at Daniel's rebuke. He is not alpha, and their pack has no omega. Broken Hammer is brother only, equal. She doesn't answer to him.

She darts ahead, and stops when Hatchet moves, still snarling, slaver dripping from vicious fangs onto the pavement beneath her jaws. Her forelegs are braced wide, her head lowered. It doesn't matter that they are bigger than she, that among them are wolves of higher rank. They don't belong here. This area may not belong to any particular pack, but it is under the protection of the wolves of Maelstrom.

The alpha of the Talons sneers at them, speaks insults. Joey snarls and barks once, snapping her jaws with a sharp clack!

[Hatchet] Daniel, keep an eye on Sorrow. I'm not sure she can tell friend from foe right now. You're her tribesmate; maybe she'll listen to you.

There's a flicker of something else, hard to define, as Joey snaps her jaws and slavers at the Talons, ignoring Daniel's bark. It's gone. The Talons are speaking. And they have his attention.
to Face of Death, GNARR, Word on the Street

[Hatchet] Outwardly it will seem like Hatchet simply lost his shit. Outwardly, it will seem like when he opens his maw and roars at the pack of Red Talons it is because he has lost all control at their words, they have taunted him and his kind too far. His rage is a powerful, pulsing thing, a twisting aura around him that seems to sear the very air. When he lunges, right for the Alpha, it will seem on the surface that the Philodox with more bloodthirsty fury in his veins than some full moons has just been pushed to the edge.

His packmates know that is not the case, if only because they can hear him in their minds, issuing orders to complement the ones he gives aloud. The fact that he can snarl both even as he's darting forward, preparing for battle in an instant, says something about the multiple levels his brain works on, the capacity he has for extraordinarily complex thought.

The fact that his eyes gleam and his rage spikes says something about the capacity he has for sheer, unadulterated brutality.

"Sorrow! Fight with me!" Follow. Submit. Or:

Kill the fucker.

[Hatchet] Joey, get behind the Alpha if you can. Everyone focus on him first. Heal each other as needed; I have talens if necessary.
to Face of Death, GNARR, Word on the Street

[Face of Death] Most of his packmates know that Hatchet is still in control.

Before Hatchet can issue a final order, Joey is already off, the fury of her alpha signal enough for the attack. She charges forward with a snarling roar. She aims for the alpha because he is the biggest. She doesn't try to get behind, however. Joey's snapping jaws are aimed for his throat.

[Sorrow] Hatchet throws himself toward the Alpha of the Red Talons. There's no indication whatsoever that the Fenrir Skald heard or understood his snarl - but air is saturated with the tension of incipient violence - she who offers sorrow charges straight toward the dark-furred Red Talon they first discovered on the rooftop, her claws sending a show of cinders and broken glass spraying behind her as she runs.

[GNARR] Instantly, the Red Talons react. The Alpha, the only one of them to have spoken at all, speaks no more. His order to attack comes in body and bark: the former lunging forward, all muscle and rage; the latter a short, sharp, coughing thing, vicious and bloodthirsty.

Joey does not move to flank. But the Talons do, spreading distance amongst one another to try to encircle the Garou of Maelstrom.

[Inits!

Just a reminder: declare within 3 min. You may post short IC blurbs if you want as we roll, but try not to hold things up!]

[Face of Death] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Hatchet] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[Sorrow] 8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1

[GNARR] Daniel +9
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Hatchet] Nate +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[GNARR] Alpha +20
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5 (Failure at target 6)

[GNARR] Dusky +9
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[GNARR] Princess +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[GNARR] Red +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[GNARR] [alpha 25
nate 18
dusky 17
dan 16
princess + red 16
joey 14
hatchet 11
sorrow 9

declare in reverse!]

[Sorrow] [Sorrow: 2 rage. 1. CHOMP DUSKY; 2. CHOMP DUSKY; 3. CHOMP DUSKY!]

[Hatchet] [Reflexive: Totemphone: Laughs in the Face of Death, that was NOT a [fucking] suggestion!
Reflexive: -1WP for Resist Pain
1a.
1b.
R1.
R2. ... all bites on Alpha]

[Face of Death] [Bite Alpha!
R1: Bite Alpha!
R2: Bite Alpha!]

[GNARR] Princess
1. 1Gn - Mother's Touch - held until someone needs it!

Red
1. Something evil on Hatchet
R1. Get behind Sorrow
R2. Bite Sorrow!

Daniel
1a. Get behind Alpha!
b. Bite!
R1. Bite!
R2. Bite!

[GNARR] Dusky
WP - Resist Pain!
1. Bite Daniel!
R1. Bite Sorrow!
R2. Bite Daniel!

[GNARR] [resist pain on daniel too]

[Hatchet] Nate
[...I'm going to say Nate shifted to hispo with the others, since I rolled his init as such *facepalm* Whoops.
1a. Mother's Touch - held]

[GNARR] Alpha
1. KILL THE PRIEST. Bite Nate!
R1. Spur Claws on Hatchet!
R2. Bite Nate!
R2. Bite Hatchet!

[GNARR] [resist pain on Alpha too! *forgot*]
1. Chomp Nate!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[GNARR] Damage on Nate! +2
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[cricket] Nate Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 6, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[GNARR] [Dusky]
1. Chomp on Dan!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[GNARR] Dam +2!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 3, 7, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[GNARR] Dan: OW?
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[GNARR] [Princess: held]

[Red: EEEBIL.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[cricket] [MT on Daniel, Medicine + Intel + Bear]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 3)

[GNARR] That was Primal Instinct, rabid Red Talon version. The normal version is permanent but only affects humans; I'm going to say this affects Hatchet until the new moon. It's in the book, but in a nutshell: 4 succ will make Hatchet intensely feral. While it won't reduce his mind to that of an animal -- he'll still have his intelligence -- it will exacerbate all his most primitive instincts.
to Hatchet

[GNARR] [Daniel! Sorry!
1a. move!
b. bite from behind, -3!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 3) Re-rolls: 1

[GNARR] +3!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)

[GNARR] (soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Face of Death] [Bite Alpha!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[Face of Death] [damage: str + 3 (Hispo) + 1 (Bear) + 2 + 4]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[GNARR] [noooo i want to liiiive!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 6, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[GNARR] In a single vicious bite, the dark Talon nearly eviscerates Broken Hammer. His packmate is there instantly, though, pressing healing claws to his fur. The Forseti retaliates brutally; his silent packmate finishes the job.

The mighty Alpha of the Talons goes down before his packmate can think to heal him. The female and the dark Talon draw closer together defensively, whining. The red one, however, snaps and snarls, his intellect instantly caving in to frenzy.

[Red: FRENZY! YOU KILLED MY ALPHA!]

[Hatchet] [1a. Kill the White Mage: Biting Princess
dex + hispo + brawl -2 (split) // diff +1 (changing targets)]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Hatchet] [straight damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 5, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[GNARR] Princess: soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Hatchet] [1b. ...Biting Princess
dex + hispo + brawl -3 (split) // diff +1 (changing targets)]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP] Re-rolls: 1

[GNARR] [Dusky: block!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 5, 6, 9, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Hatchet] [damage! str + bear + hispo + hispo bite + 1]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 4, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[GNARR] [ack, soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Sorrow] [chomp dusky!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 4, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 5)

[Sorrow] [Damage: str + hispo + + 1+ 6]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[GNARR] (soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 7, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[GNARR] [Alpha: dead]
[Nate: done]
[Dusky: R1 was spent blocking.]
[Daniel: switch R1 to Princess, bite!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6) Re-rolls: 3

[GNARR] +6!
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 3, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[GNARR] [princess soaks!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 6, 6, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Hatchet] [Reflexive: Totemphone: Kill their healer! As if they needed to be told. In Daniel's case, clearly not.]

[GNARR] [Princess: holding heal, may switch to dodge]
[Red: moving behind Sorrow!]

[GNARR] [Whoops - Red is Frenzied. Redeclare: chomp Joey!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[GNARR] +4!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Face of Death] [sooooak pleeeeeze!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Face of Death] [R1: Bite Red! - 1 (ow, you fucker!)]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 5, 7, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Face of Death] [damage: + 4]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[GNARR] (Augh!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[Hatchet] [R1. bite princess!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[GNARR] The frenzied Red Talon tears into Laughs in the Face of Death, but she's made of sterner stuff than that. In a single catastrophic bite, she brings the Talon down.

His packmate moves to heal...

[Princess: Heal!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 4)

[GNARR] [Princess soaks!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Hatchet] [damage]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Sorrow] [R1: Chomp Dusky!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 7, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[GNARR] [Dusky soaks!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Sorrow] [damage]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[GNARR] [Dusky: R2, chomp Dan!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[GNARR] +4!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[GNARR] [Dan Soaks!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 5, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[GNARR] It's not Broken Hammer's day.

The dark Talon tears viciously into him. When he wrenches away, a spurting arc of blood splashes everyone within a ten-foot radius. Broken Hammer staggers a single step, dazed, and then drops on his side.

[GNARR] [Princess: done]
[Red: R2, bite Sorrow!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 5, 7, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[GNARR] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Sorrow] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Face of Death] [R2: Bite Red! -1]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 9 (Failure at target 6)

[Hatchet] [R2. bite princess again!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 6, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) Re-rolls: 3

[Hatchet] [damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[GNARR] (nooo i want to liiiive!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 (Failure at target 6)

[GNARR] Another of the Talons goes down. All that remains is the dark one, grievously injured, and the ruddy one, mad.

[Sorrow] [R2: CHOMP DUSKY -1 wound penalty]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 6, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[GNARR] (Dusky soaks!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Sorrow] [Damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[GNARR] The balance of power has shifted.

The Talons were Fosterns. Every last one of them. They were a unified pack, strong and arrogant. Yet in a matter of seconds, the rather ill-organized flock of Cliaths led by a single Fostern has carved them up. Their Alpha is dead. Their healer. Their Galliard is frenzied, snapping wildly.

The last one, the dark wolf, has his tail between his legs. In another instant, he makes up his mind -- turns on his haunches to flee.

[Sumup:

Alpha - dead
Princess - dead
Dusky - 5Agg
Red - 2Agg, Frenzied

Daniel - Incap
Nate - 2A
Joey - 3A
Sorrow - 2A
Hatchet - OK

Action order:
Nate
Dusky
Red
Joey
Hatchet
Sorrow]

[Sorrow] [2 Rage. 1. Chase dusky. 2. CHOMP. 3. CHOMP.]

[Hatchet] [Reflexive: Lift leg, release piss onto Princess's corpse. Bark and howl encouragement to Sorrow for harrying Dusky and killing his ass.
1a. MT on Daniel
1b. Bite Red]

[Face of Death] Joey shakes her head, sending sprays of red everywhere. Her incessant growling, the near frenzied snapping of her jaws ceases. Clarity returns to her dark eyes, and she takes a moment to take stock of the situation. She's injured, her fur soaked with her own blood and that of her foes. Nate and Kora are hurt. Daniel is on the ground. With a conscious effort, Joey draws on a Gift to ignore the pain.

[1WP activate Resist Pain
1a: Get behind Red
1b: CHOMPIT! + WP]

[GNARR] [Dusky:
1. Run!
R1. Counterchomp!
R2. Counterchomp! LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE.

Red:
1. Bite Daniel
R1. Bite Joey
R2. Bite Daniel
R3. Bite Joey!]

[Hatchet] [Changing 1a to Block for Daniel]

[Word on the Street] [ 1a Bite Red
1b Bite Red
1R Bite Red
2R Bite Red
]

[Word on the Street] [ 1a Bite Red - 5d5 ]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Word on the Street] [ DMG - 7d6]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Word on the Street] [ More Dice 2d6]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 5, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[GNARR] (soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 5, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Word on the Street] [1 more ]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3 (Failure at target 6)

[Word on the Street] [ 1b Bite Red - 4d5]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Word on the Street] [DMG - 9d6]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[GNARR] (ack! soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[GNARR] [Dusky: Runs!]

[Red: Bite Dan!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Face of Death] [1a: block for Dan!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Face of Death] [1b: Bitin': - 3 + WP]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 5) [WP]

[Face of Death] [damage: + 5]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[GNARR] [Red: NOOO I WANT TO LIIIIVE!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Hatchet] [1a. MAH BRUDDER AH HEALZ J00. IT BE OTAY NOW.
Int + Med + Bear, -1 G. Dropping second split.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 4 at target 3) [WP]

[Sorrow] [CHASES DUSKY]

[GNARR] [DUSKY RUNS.]

[GNARR] [Whoops. DUSKY BITES. STOP FOLLOWING ME!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[GNARR] dam+2!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

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

[Sorrow] [BITE DUSKY]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Sorrow] DAMAGE
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[GNARR] (nooo i want to liiive!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[GNARR] The Sentinels are a strange lot.

Nearly every last one of them has some darkness in their history. Some darkness, one might argue, in their soul. At least two of them are feral and savage; another two are sometimes so blithe and careless that one wonders if they care at all. They're vicious in battle. Most of them have probably been called honorless or unwise at one point or another. Many of them may indeed, to some degree, deserve these epithets.

And yet: they are healers. And yet: they are protectors. And they are, most definitely, a pack.

The frenzied Talon never manages to so much as nick the Forseti that brutalized his Alpha. One Sentinel tears a gash into him. Another blocks his attack, turns it back so viciously that he reels, and then tears his throat out.

Their Alpha heals Broken Hammer, then. The Forseti's eyes flick open. He springs to his feet, somewhere between hyperalert and dazed, and...

...realizes the last of the enemy is down. Some thirty, forty yards away, at the very edge of the roof, the lone Skald, She Who Offers Sorrow, has sunk her teeth into escaping prey and brought him down.

[GNARR] [Final damage tally:
Nate 2A
Dan 3A
Joey 3A
Sorrow 4A!]

[Hatchet] Something has happened to their Alpha.

He's not human. He rarely seems human. He doesn't spend time around humans because then he'd have to at least pretend to be like them, pretend to be tolerable to them, and it's a lot of effort that isn't worth it -- to him -- to expend. His packmates have seen him utterly brutal in battle. A certain Uktena Ahroun could tell stories, if she ever bothered to talk to anyone, about things she's seen him do, about the time he literally clawed his way out of the belly of a sea monster. Or the time he literally tore out a Spiral's heart and roared in its face as he dug his claws in.

Hatchet is far, far from human. Compassionate. Kind. He doesn't have the warmth of a healer, or the gentleness of a father. Yet: they know he cares. The way he bumps against them sometimes, the way everything they do seems to matter to him, the way he comes to Room 8 sometimes and simply curls up near the door or the center of the room, making sure they are sleeping soundly and safely. When he heals Daniel, a rush of what feels like forgiveness and smells like water hits the Fenrir, washing through him in a moment that will not change or touch the guilt in his soul.

It passes away, along with the pain it takes.

Daniel doesn't see what the others do: Hatchet lifting his left after slaughtering the female Talon and urinating on her corpse. He's never done anything like that before, not that they've seen. He looks strange as he swivels his head left and right, catching sight of Sorrow but ignoring her for now, though he snarls in her direction. He turns to his packmates, seething with spent rage, barely restrained by his control and his burning intelligence.

Hatchet stalks towards Laughs in the Face of Death and, without the eye-rolling, mouth-foaming insanity of frenzy

calmly lunges for her throat.

[Face of Death] Joey acts without thinking most of the time. There's a difference between the way the Rotagar thoughtlessly acted from the moment she peered over the rooftop and stared into the face of a Red Talon, and the way she thoughtlessly acted at the end of the battle.

Before, she acted on instincts alone, to fight, to defend territory. She bowed to the dominance of her alpha and no other. But, when clarity returned, and an enemy charged her fallen brother, Joey was quick to intercept, quick to tear out her enemy's throat.

She stands stock still for a moment, her mind reeling with what she's done. Her forelegs are splayed, not in a posture of threat, but to maintain her balance. She remembers everything. She remembers snarling and charging a pack of motherfucking Fosterns. She remembers ignoring Broken Hammer. Most importantly, Joey remembers disregarding Hatchet's direct and explicit orders.

She turns to face her alpha, who is coming for her throat. She doesn't duck or dodge, doesn't fight back.

[Sorrow] she who offers sorrow skids to a staggered halt at the edge of the roof, blood in her mouth. She takes a great heaving breath and a full body shake as her mind clears at last. She is standing on a cindered rooftop of a decrepit building, the stink of garbage and human urine waft up from the alley below, undercurrent to the blood in her mouth, steaming as it hits the frigid air. The moon above her is full; she feels that the way a sea feels the moon - thoughtless, tidal, and sure. Her body is rigid, her tail low with tension, pale eyes glinting in the moonlight as she stands over the downed Red Talon and watches the Hatchet throat Laughs in the Face of Death.

[GNARR] (percep+PU!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
to Hatchet

[GNARR] Broken Hammer is an introverted, glum creature, but in the end he is also a creature of feral intellect and rage. When his Alpha lunges at his packmate, he's instantly razor-alert. He looks, he sees, he makes a decision on a split second and

sits on his haunches, bearing silent witness.

[Hatchet] [biting joey]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 4, 6, 6, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Hatchet] [damage - pulling at incap if necessary]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 6, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Face of Death] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Hatchet] [and again]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 6, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Word on the Street] [ Nate moves forward to block Hatchet from striking again]

[Word on the Street] [ Block - 7d6]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[GNARR] (blocking the block!)
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 9 at target 6) Re-rolls: 3

[Hatchet] [damage - again, not gonna kill the little rotagar]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 5, 6, 6, 7, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Face of Death] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Hatchet] [third bite on joey]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[GNARR] When his packmate moves to prevent their Alpha from attacking their Rotagar again, Broken Hammer springs instantly to his feet.

The intervention is flawless. There's nothing brutal about it -- no shouldercheck, no snarl, no tooth or claw. The Forseti simply places his weight against his brother, turning his advance aside smoothly, gently, perfectly.

"Leave them. It is discipline. He will not kill her."

[Hatchet] [damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Face of Death] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Hatchet] [that was pulled at incap, natch]

[Hatchet] Laughs in the Face of Death knows what's coming, and she knows why.

Broken Hammer sees Buried Hatchet lunge, senses on the wind or sees in his eyes the capacity for restraint, and he does not intervene.

She Who Offers Sorrow watches from the other end of the roof, as the pack's Alpha tears at his Rotagar.

Word on the Street is aghast.

Though she stands to bear it, the first bite is all but absorbed into Joey's fur. They are a tough group, the Sentinels, able to shake off a great deal, able to do as much damage as they can swallow themselves. Hatchet lunges again, and this time, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Nate jumping forward to try and stop him

and he sees it effortlessly turned aside by his Forseti. Hatchet growls, dominant more than anything else, and tears a hole in Joey's shoulder. He bites again and nearly rips her throat completely out. It is controlled. It is sane. It drops Joey, instantly, to the rooftop's floor. Hatchet stands over her, blood dripping out of his mouth, and spits it out to the side. He shifts, in an eyeblink, back to his birth form, bringing up one hoodie-sleeved arm and wiping his mouth. Reaching into his pocket, he takes out a small painted gourd that could not fit in that pocket, and smashes it rather brutally over Joey's head.

[-1G, +4HP to Joey]

When she wakes, when her eyes open, he doesn't wait for her to speak -- though he doesn't expect her to, even in this mindset. He doesn't wait for her to even lose whatever near-death drowsiness may have entered her mind. His voice, even in this form, is a hard baritone snarl.

"Three times you disobeyed me. Once you ignored your brother, who has proven his superior wisdom time. And time. Again." The words fall harsh and low from his mouth, perhaps not even audible to Sorrow, so far away. Then again: some of them have better ears than others. "So: three times -- two more, now -- I will remind you of your place in this pack. You will offer submission to Broken Hammer. And this will not happen again."

Before he does anything else, he turns his head, face bloody and eyes bright, pale, and alien under the moonlight. He looks at Word on the Street and bares his teeth, growling. "Do you wish to challenge me for leadership of this pack, Galliard?"

It isn't rhetorical. He's waiting for an answer.

[Word on the Street] Nate looks at the Alpha of the Sentinels for what seems like minutes but are actually seconds. The sound of the question ringing in his ears.

"No Alpha, I do not....I failed to understand your intent."

Nate raises his muzzle and offers his throat to Hatchet "I beg your forgiveness, and will learn from my mistake."

[Hatchet] His teeth remain in view, stained with Joey's blood, and he snarls again. It's a savage, unforgiving sound, and though it isn't far from what they've seen of him before, it's still strange that he doesn't relent. He doesn't pull back on the instinct to dominate his packmates, who he leads because

he is stronger than they are.

"Your understanding, or lack of it, does not give you leave to interfere. You do not, ever, have the right to try and stop me unless I am frenzied. I AM YOUR ALPHA." This last is literally roared, shouted gutturally at the Bone Gnawer.

It isn't words that save Nate, now. Hatchet doesn't even seem to react to hearing them. It's the exposure of his throat, the submission he is barking and posturing for. Hatchet snaps his jaws at him, a show of all-too-animal reinforcement, and then grunts, turning his head away again and looking back down at Joey.

In an instant, he is in crinos.

[-1R]

[GNARR] Broken Hammer's ears are flat against his head. When Hatchet turns away, the Forseti flicks a baffled glance between the Fianna and the Gnawer.

"Alpha," he ventures, "we need to dispose of the bodies honorably. Whatever they became, these were once Garou of Gaia, and of a rare and dwindling bloodline."

[Face of Death] Joey drops, not from wounds inflicted by an enemy, some unknown agent of the Wyrm, but by her alpha. The same person who understands what it feels like to care about someone in a way their kind isn't supposed to care, and lose that someone. The same person who sometimes sleeps in room 8 with them, guarding them in their sleep. The same person who sits with her in the Umbra, watching the spirits in silence.

When she wakes, Joey shifts to her birth form. Her clothing is ragged and torn, and she's covered in her own blood. Her face is smeared with that of two Fostern Red Talons. The Rotagar sits up, but doesn't rise from her place on the ground. She sits with her legs folded in front of her, spine curved and head bowed, eyes downcast, submissive. She doesn't offer explanation, wouldn't even if she could. The answer to her disobedience, in her mind, is simple.

She was weak, and her weakness lead to a loss of control.

Hatchet snarls at Nate, which causes Joey to look up at him, confused. Right now, he is more animal than she has ever seen him.

She doesn't rise. She doesn't shift. If he wishes to continue, she won't stop him. But...


Boss? Her voice is tentative across the totem link, unsure. And she wonders if maybe, just maybe, what happened to her has happened to him, as well. Alpha, she corrects herself more firmly, and sits up straighter, waiting for Crinos claws to tear into her all too human flesh. Did you look into their eyes? Is your beast outta control, too?

[Sorrow] she who offers sorrow remains at the edge of the roof, on the fringes of the group. Her attention falls from the pack as Hatchet throats and then heals his Rotagar to the corpses of the wolves scattered across the cinders. Her memories are fogged, limited - her perspective askew, as if she had been wearing blinders - but now she counts the dead lupus Garou - the bloodmatted fur, the staring, empty eyes, the gleaming ropes of viscera visible inside the abdominal cavity of the dead alpha, the blood around the dead female's throat and head like a collar and a crown.

The Skald's rage is spent, and the afterburn leaves her with hollow except for the pain of her wounds. Her tongue lolls out to taste the cindered air before snapping shut once more as her attention snaps back sharply to the pack in the center of the roof, her ears alert, flicking as her attention snaps from Sentinel to Sentinel.

[Hatchet] Joey is speaking, breaking her vow. Daniel is speaking, while he's in the middle of disciplining two unruly packmates. Hatchet whips his head to the side, his fur all gray and red-tipped, his claws long and entire body hulking and broad. He looks terrifying in this form, one he does not often fight in, but then... they all do. Had his first attack on Joey been in this form, it would have been hard for them to tell he was not frenzied, the way he's holding himself.

This time his voice comes over their link, and it is not the rumble of their totem and their Alpha together. It's a roar, the sort that has a true bear stomping its paw against the earth hard enough to cause it to quake, bellowing until its very fur trembles on end.

There are no words to describe what that is. Words, the ones they communicate with even over their totemic, telepathic link, are... too human a concept at this point.

His heavy arm swings in an arc towards her head, claws all but whistling in the air.

[dex + brawl]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 5, 5, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Hatchet] [damage -- pulling at incap again if necessary]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Hatchet] [-1G, Gaia's Breath, +4HP again to Joey]

[Face of Death] Joey falls silent once more. Her words aren't reaching him. She winces when that roar tears across her mind, gasps when Hatchet's claws mangle her pretty human face. She can't feel the pain in her face, not yet, not while her gift is still in effect.

So she falls back. And she waits for it to end.

[GNARR] Broken Hammer is silent now, and tense. He watches intently, muscles coiled, ready to spring if necessary.

[Hatchet] Again. This time he claws her, nearly flaying her face off the bone and muscle and fat underneath. He exposes part of her jaw. This is... beyond brutality. This seems so heedless, so thoughtless, so uncaring --

-- except when he takes out another gourd and breaks it over Joey. This time he doesn't smash it on her skull. He breaks it on her chest, over her heart, and lets the healing wash through her again. His breathing simmers. Her wounds restore themselves, all over her body, and Hatchet does not roar in her face this time or tear her ribcage open with his claws.

This third attack, the third time he promised to punish her -- no, remind her of her place -- is different from the others. He quite deliberately leans over her, hunches over her, and bites her throat firmly. This is a terror. This is a nightmare, the slow nearness of his jaws, the obviousness of his control and his decision to do it anyway.

His mouth closes on her very human, very delicate, very scarred neck.

[dex + brawl]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 9 at target 5) Re-rolls: 3

[Word on the Street] Nate is there at Daniels side waiting, watching Joey get struck with another blow. Wondering when enough was going to be enough.

He turns his head to Daniel after the comment from Joey over their totem link "So do we step in now ?"

[Hatchet] [damage - pulling at incap]
Dice Rolled:[ 17 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 7, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[GNARR] Broken Hammer's negation is nonverbal: just a faint, low whuff. He watches.

[Hatchet] Blood rushes out thick, hot, and bright red from Joey's neck. It sprays his face, covers his chest and neck. He spits it out as he turns his head, letting her slump to the ground rather than dropping her like a sack of bricks. And then he swivels his head over to Daniel, making a low whuffing noise.

Heal sister. Spirit weak, saving talens. Heal sister.

[GNARR] The Forseti's yellow eyes linger on Hatchet for a moment after the Fianna speaks. For a second it seems Broken Hammer might say something.

Then the Forseti rises to his feet, padding forward. He laps at the Rotagar's wounds patiently, and they close beneath his tongue.

[-1Gn -- 6 autosuxx!]

[Hatchet] [perception + primal urge on daniel]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Face of Death] Joey doesn't rise again. She just lays there as Hatchet's huge Crinos head looms over her. She feels his teeth sink into her scarred throat. She feels him snap through her windpipe, but it's not pain that makes her eyes go wide for one horrible moment.

cant'breathcan'tbreathcan'tbreathe

And then the world goes dark.

She comes to with a gasp. She's a mess, the freckles of her face completely lost beneath a layer of her own blood. Joey is too weak to rise again. She's been taken to the brink of death three times. A great canine tongue is lapping at her wounds. She doesn't push Daniel away when she comes to her senses.

Joey just lays there on her back, submitting to the treatment. Whenever Daniel finally stops, she rolls onto her side first, gathering her strength before making the push to sit upright. She's tired, wants to sleep, but there's cleansing to be done. Bodies to be moved. All the horrible little things that always need to be done after a battle.

[Hatchet] Daniel's healing covers almost everything. Joey is very nearly good as new, but for being covered in blood. Hatchet is still a hulking monster, seeming more comfortable in this form than the one he was born in, right now. He crouches on top of the roof, staring at his packsister as she rights herself. He leans forward and butts his head against her bicep, a strong pressure that is not quite a nuzzle.

Over now.

He turns to look at Daniel. He didn't forget. He didn't ignore. One still alive. We take to Caern. They cannot be buried there --

For a moment he doesn't sound like a caveman, as though he's stirring slightly.

-- because they hated. They were not Maelstrom's. But we ask what to do. Bleeding Heart-rhya is wise, Balance Without Fault-rhya is honorable. They will tell us what to do.

There's an odd level of trust in his tone, a certainty that the higher-ranked wolves will know better. He rises to his feet and moves to pick up the urine-soaked body of the female, the one that was his kill. He drapes her over his shoulder, nodding to Sorrow as she picks up the one she chased down. They will take them through the Gauntlet, and take them back to the Caern. Hatchet seems calm now. Just... strange.

Very, very strange.

[GNARR] [i think that's a good wrap! for the record: the living Talon will be questioned, and then sent to a more powerful Sept somewhere up north where he'll be judged and cleansed if possible. The dead ones will be cleansed and then cremated honorably with better wishes for their reincarnations, but no marker will be raised.]

[Hatchet] [Thank you for STing, Damon! Thank you guys for the RP. Intense. *L*]

[GNARR] [thanks for playing! and thanks for being good sports when i fucked with your chars *LOL*]

[Face of Death] [lol no problem, man! It was a blast!]

[OneSong] [[Borrowed and modified from Damon's list in the forums. Usual disclaimer: This hunt is dangerous. Do not include a PC if you do not wish to risk their death.

1. 10 min per post OR LESS. Preferably less. If we're dicing, declare in 3 min. Roll in 2 or I'll roll for you.
2. No posting order, but please post ONCE for every post I make. Also, prepare your posts AHEAD of time! If you know what you are going to do, write it up. Do not wait for the next post to begin. Same goes for combat declares.
3. Unless Gifts are declared, they will not be assumed to be activated once combat begins.
4. You can freely shift between forms before combat starts. Once die start rolling, either Rage or Primal Urge must be used.
5. Questions in the chat. Don't IM me. If I don't see the question, repeat it until I do. If I don't respond for minutes on end -- I'm probably posting. You should wait, unless it's absolutely urgent, upon which you should PM me once.
6. PM me your applicable flaws. This includes stuff like nightmares and phobias and hatreds and compulsions.
7. If there are any off-limits themes, imagery or events you do NOT want to see in a scene, PM 'em to me now.
8. This is a complex scene. In order to keep it quick, no multi-playing please.]]

[OneSong] The winter city. Where snow does not cover, the cold has seeped in, rendering iron black and adhesive to the touch, concrete denser, the texture and feel of the urban streets less forgiving, less familial. Out here, far from the steel and glass skyscrapers of downtown, beyond the chaotic, kaleidoscopic knot of Chinatown, up the coast from the Caern and beyond even the reaches of Cabrini Green, the city seems in mourning, shrouded in snow as if to signal its grief. An industrial playground, long abandoned and desolate. An endless stretch of silent city blocks wholly given over to ironworks, to factories and warehouses, to deserted parking lots and abandoned office complexes. An industrial null zone, a testament to human endeavor gone wrong.

It's here that the Garou have gathered, having been warned at the Caern by errant, urgent spirits of air and darkness. Spirits that came to whisper their information into the ears of those gathered at that moment within the bawn, attendant and fortunate enough to be approached by these gafflings.

Come, they had whispered. Abomination walks, a vibration of legs, a foulness in the air. Come, destroy, cleanse, before it can spread its contamination.

Questions and queries put to them do not elicit much more information. These gafflings appear distraught, disturbed, and at best further adjectives can be drawn from them. Seeping metal, bleeding iron, orphaned aberration.

So they come. The Garou summoned, to a field of battle not of their choosing, to face prey unknown to them. But can they in good conscience resist such as summons?

The area they are drawn to is dominated by an overpass, abandoned now but once carrying freight trains over and far north to a yard long since demolished and rebuilt. Still this great iron artery hangs, suspended over the vacant lots and foundries, streaked with rust and some twenty five feet in the air, supported on vast legs of concrete, its underbelly a crosshatching of bars. Massive, ponderous, a dead conduit above them.

The street up which they come is two lanes wide, and flanked to the left by an abandoned ironworks, a vast site that fills the entire block, walled some five yards up and topped by barbed wire. A huge, medieval metal gate is set in its center. To their right are warehouses, seamed together so as to form their own stark wall, each marked by its iron rollup entrance, faded and illegible signs a testament to their state of abandonment.

Ahead, the intersection, over which the overpass runs in a stark oblique line. No city lights here, nothing but the faint light of Luna, muffled by the heavy cloud cover. All is still. Not even an Umbral wind blows. The gafflings, having indicated the intersection ahead, have now fled, retreated. Leaving the Garou to proceed as they will.

[Broken Hammer] Broken Hammer doesn't fuck around. He's already in Hispo, though lean as he is, he casts a slighter profile than some of his mightier cousins would. The direwolf is brindled grey and white, long of limb, narrow across the shoulder and hip girdles, and possessed of a silent, lightfooted grace that allows him to trot easily even in this form. His ears are pricked, his eyes bright yellow. He lopes ahead of the makeshift warpack, automatically assigning himself the role of scout in the absence of a Ragabash.

[Broken Hammer] Since you're here...

Alpha, I am investigating a disturbance. Spirits at the Caern called urgently for aid; there was no time to wait.
to vikthya

[OneSong] [[Make sure to PM me applicable flaws.]]
to Broken Hammer, Kindly One, Until Death

[Broken Hammer] (Short Fuse! Hatred: persecution of the blameless! Tribal Intolerance: badmouthing the Hand of Tyr, and more generally, the hardline tenets of the Get.)
to OneSong

[Until Death] [Irene has no Flaws. Only Zuul.]
to Broken Hammer, Kindly One, OneSong

[Hard Knocks] Much like Broken Hammer, Hard Knocks doesn't fuck around. She, though, takes Crinos form finds a handy hard surface on which to hone her razor claws. That done, she takes up the rear, should any threat come from behind. Eyes, ears and nose are on high alert.

(1 Rage spent, Razor Claws activated)

[Broken Hammer] [May as well declare it now: 1WP - Resist Pain. Master of Fire - constitutive.]

[Rain of Brass Petals] She came on two legs instead of four.

She came with bow drawn instead of at her side. Instead, she stayed with her sisters, instead, she stayed towards the center, and whine her senses were not the sharpest, her intuition was admirable. The Furyinhaled, and stood by her sisters.

She waits for her sister to give her instructions, but she is making sure she has all of her gear together. Pure water, ritual components, talens and talens and more talens.

She's the only theurge here, her duties would be different than they would were she only with her sisters. She is keeping an ear out for the spirits for now.

[Hard Knocks] (I knew I forgot something. Also Master of Fire.)

[Kindly One] Alek arrives with her sisters, already in Crinos. Her fur is black as midnight. Her blades are already drawn and at her sides, the blades dark and reflecting little light. Around one wrist is a length of knotted thread. There are smears of something dark along the blades of each falcata.

Stay alert, is all she says to her sisters.

[incoming rolls!
soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Kindly One] [damage 1]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 9 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[Kindly One] [damage 2]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Until Death] For one born under the moon that is currently shining overhead, the tallest and blondest of the young women comprising the Squad of Ultimate Badasses is perhaps surprisingly attuned to the spirit world, more so than some Cliath Theurges. When the gafflings called for action, when they attempted to gain the attention of anyone who would hear them, the tall teenager had followed her sisters through the Umbra without question, had even asked a few questions of the gafflings herself before she shifted up to her war form.

One hand is all she needs to wield the labrys that has been dedicated as part of her very being. She needs both of her eyes and ears to take in the world around her; she needs neither to follow her Alpha's lead.

[Gnosis: Soakity!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6 (Botch x 1 at target 7)

[Kindly One] [Alek: + 1 to soak, + 1L to each sword]

[OneSong] The Garou move forward. The tight knot of highly coordinated Furies, the lone Fenrir padding up ahead, the Bone Gnawer to one side. Move forward, warily, prepared as best they can. Pad up the street, coming closer, closer, closer.

Looking ahead, they see that the overpass approaches the intersection at a diagonal from over the ironworks to their left, cuts right over the heart of where the two streets meet, and then proceeds on, extending out over what appears to be a solid wall of brick tenement buildings, each some two stories high.

The intersection appears to be empty. Shadows are heavy everywhere, the city adumbrated, but here, where the overpass crosses, the intersection seems drowned in angular darkness, the shadow cast by the overpass strangely stark. Both streets are but two lanes wide; pavement some two yards in span flank them, and then hit hard on the facades of the abutting buildings, giving each street the feel of a vicious canyon.

Luna lights the flanks of the overpass, burnishing it a sullen maroon, each rivet casting its own nob of shadow immediately beneath it. But the belly of the overpass is a nightmare of shadow, a mess of darkness within which the crosshatching of support beams can but barely be discerned. Some twenty five feet up, some twenty feet wide, it dominates the sky.

[[Gimme per+alert rolls, diff 7]]

[Kindly One] [percept + alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7) Re-rolls: 2

[Rain of Brass Petals] [Saddest dicepool ever...]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Broken Hammer]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 4, 5, 8, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 7)

[Until Death] [Alertness+Perception]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 7)

[Hard Knocks] [Per + Alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 6 (Botch x 2 at target 7)

[OneSong] [[The Fenrir pads ahead, absorbing the world about him, the stink of rot in the gutters, the tang of rust on his tongue, the sound of distant, distant sirens. The breathing behind him. The whisper of feet and paws on cement. A low wind blowing a street over. But he's focused, focused on the overpass, the intersection. His eyes drawn--there!

It's under the overpass. The entity is shaped like some foul amalgam of crab and spider, the size of a compact car. A broad shell covers a flat body, a bony ridge running down its center and tenting the carapace, which was once metallic but now heavily corroded as if scorched and eroded by acid. A constellation of eyes are embedded in its front, above which rises a crown, a series of rods and spikes embedded deep into where its brain might be. Eight legs extend about it, holding it to the adroitly upside down. And staring right at them, covered in shadows as it is.]]
to Broken Hammer

[Rain of Brass Petals] She readied an arrow, her eyes were searching for something; it was a shame that her perception was not more spot on than it was. She was an archer, yes, and she should have been able to notice things better than she did. Alas, Alethea did see something She thought she saw, under an underpass... one... two... ten? It was hard to tell. It stopped, then was gone.

She keeps the arrow ready, silently judging distance.

They could get close enough, and if they continued forward at this rate, she would be in range to attack or move long before her companions.

[Broken Hammer] Broken Hammer emits a low sound, a gruff, short bark that echos in the confines of his muzzle and hardly escapes his lips. It's a clear look there! to his compatriots; he points with his muzzle at a deep shadow beneath the overpass.

Whether or not they see anything, though, is another matter.

[Hard Knocks] Annie stills, spins, sniffs, listens. Something behind them, something . . . there. Right? Right. She doesn't bound off towards it, but is tense, quivering, until Daniel gives his notice. Look there comes in wolf cues, and Annie does, though one ear, at least, is back the direction she swears she heard something in.

Claws are ready, of course.

[Kindly One] Alek keeps herself alert, but she's too distracted. Her rage rides just a touch too high this night. Her attention shifts to her sister, to the overpass where she sees...or did she see..something. She doesn't dismiss that glimmer, no, but she doesn't look as deeply as she might at another time.

The Fenrir growls, points with his muzzle, confirming. Something is there. She cocks her head to the side, watching the darkness for movement, alert for attack.

[OneSong] To varying degrees they spot something beneath the overpass. It's a good twenty yards before them, and latched under the iron structure, and as the Fenrir let's forth his bark, a cold, green light glows into being beneath the overpass, a sicklied color, toad green, pulsing and smoldering. The kind of light that marks itself out from the darkness, but does little to dispel the darkness itself; it seems to emanate from a complex webbing the size of a human crown, angular and fitful, glowing in slow pulses and hinting at the shape to which it is attached: something the size of a small car, carapaced and clinging with many, segmented legs to the underbelly of the overpass.

[Broken Hammer] The enemy spotted, Broken Hammer slows his stride until the others catch up. Instinctively, the Forseti flanks the sole Ahroun amongst them, looking to her for orders, intent, some cue on how this will play out.

[Rain of Brass Petals] "What is it?" she asks. It's a specific question, and she looks to her companions. The Fury squints and looks at the green glow. She cocks her head to the side and the theurge is trying to pull up some kind of information on what this creature could possibly me. She needed knowledge, and that knowledge could serve her well in this particular battle.

[Rain of Brass Petals] [int+occult, wassat?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 5, 10 (Failure at target 8) [WP]

[OneSong] [[The Fenrir can tell--the green glow emanates from the short spindles emerging from the part of the shell directly above its eyes.]]
to Broken Hammer

[Broken Hammer] As they pace closer, Broken Hammer lowers his head until his neck extends straight from his shoulders. Step by step the direwolf pads forward, craning his neck to see, to smell.

"I suspect it is a weaver construct." No, that isn't right. "Was. Look at the back; bulging, corroded. It has been corrupted, is quite possibly dead now. I suspect the glow comes from whatever has overtaken it.

"I would be prepared for the corrupter to emerge and seek a new target. Or perhaps to possess the empty shell and use it to its own advantage."

[Kindly One] They move forward together, cautious, Alek with a mind to her sister. Adam is a healer, a distance fighter. Alek and Irene are the ones who get in close, who are better equipped to take the damage they deal out. She makes sure to stay ahead of the Theurge.

"We should draw it out, then, rather than let it spring on us."

[Hard Knocks] Annie, in her Crinos form, is still small. She's skinny, and just barely tall enough to avoid nicknames like 'midget' (and to avoid being the little person in someone's cupboard). She's uncertain, having been fairly certain she heard something behind them, but with nothing further seen or heard, and glimpse caught of green glowing, and so she moves forward with Daniel at her side. That the archer should be to the back is obvious, she feels no need to say so - ranged weapons and all. Which, with herself and Broken Hammer at the front, leaves the swords in the middle.

"If, like, I was gonna try an' possess someone, it'd be because I couldn't do shit on my own, ya know?" Even in this form, in this mode of speech, she's a Valley girl. "We might have ta let it spring on us to draw it out."

[OneSong] The green light begins to pulse, flaring now, bright, growing brighter, than dying, dying down, a retinal afterglow, then back, back, bright once more.

And a sound. A keening. A low, insidious keening, the kind that makes you feel like your skin is trying to shift an inch over to the left, all over your body. The kind that you feel in your teeth, that makes you think of your teeth being root canalled. It starts low, but with each pulse, begins to grow louder.

Awful sound. Awful sound. Hair rises. Hearts begin to beat harder.

The sound. That glow. Growing more intense. More intense.

[Hard Knocks] [Per + Alert again!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7) [WP]

[Kindly One] [-1G Heightened Senses
percept + alert diff 7 -2]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 7 (Failure at target 5)

[Rain of Brass Petals] "If that's the case then whatever is inside of it would probably be small and weak if driven out, it might have more power if there is something dwelling inside of it... like a parasite. I would guess that driving it out of one of us would be difficult. Strong bodies, strong hosts made weak after a battle if it wears us down and starts to panic."

She looks around, takes the figure in the distance in and, at that moment, starts coming up with a plan on what to do.

"I think if we can cover our backs and use the scenery to our advantage we can avoid being-" she is interrupted by an awful, hair-raising sound.

"Or maybe it's an egg sack... there are certain creatures that will lay their eggs in the body of another animal, and the eggs will eat their way out onc ehtye are mature and use the body for sustinence."

[Rain of Brass Petals] [maybe?]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 4, 5 (Failure at target 7)

[Broken Hammer] "That is just as likely," Broken Hammer concurs, ears pinning back to his skull as the keening rises. "Or it could be something we cannot even imagine. No matter; no time now!" The Fenrir's long teeth bare. He snaps at the air: "Call the shots, Ahroun! We follow you!"

[Hard Knocks] "I'm, like, short 'n shit," comes after only a moment's thought. "Someone's gotta jump 'n knock it down. Or maybe the swords will reach, 'n the rest'a us'll have your back."

It's a decision, and a done deal. Annie's moving forward, after either swords or someone tall, the better to pounce the thing when it's knocked down.

[Kindly One] It's true, maybe Alek's swords will give her the reach she needs to knock the thing down. First, she turns to her sister.

"Do you think you can shoot it down? If not, I'll go ahead."

[OneSong] [Corroded Crab +7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Kindly One] [+8]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[Broken Hammer] +9!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Rain of Brass Petals] [8+1d10]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4

[Hard Knocks] [+7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[OneSong] [Order is: Broken Hammer
Hard Knocks
Rain/Corroded Crab
Kindly One]

Reverse Declare!

[Kindly One] [1WP activate Resist Pain
1a: Slice! (main hand)
1b: Slice! (off hand)
1c: Slice! (main hand)
R: Slice! (main hand)]

[OneSong] [Corroded Crab: Going to hold on tight and keep on keening]

[Rain of Brass Petals] Declare!
1: shoot the crab down (arrow to the hanging thing)
2: shoot it again (arrow to the hanging thing)
3: shoot it a third time ( with a Bane arrow. yet ANOTHER arrow to the thing)
4: Bane arrow (shoot that damned crab!)

[Broken Hammer] Broken Hammer, running in at Hard Knocks's shoulder, barks: "I'll boost you! Knock it down!"

[Hard Knocks] Annie's 'grace' isn't so much grace, as it were, but an innate sense of self born from years of play yard tussles, of sports. She climbs, she jumps, she runs, and as much as anything else, it's for the joy of doing it. I'll boost you, says Broken Hammer, and without a hesitation to think, her step veers just lightly and she bounces up onto hispo shoulders to rake at the carapace, the better to knock down the green, glowing bit.

[Hard Knocks] [1a) Jump on Broken Hammer's back
1b) rake the fuck outta glowy thing.]

[Rain of Brass Petals] [perception train?]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Broken Hammer] 3Rage
1. boost!
R1. Bite
R2. Bite
R3. Bite

R1-3 are all assuming the thing falls down. If it doesn't, I'll be redeclaring!

[Broken Hammer] (boost!)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Hard Knocks] [Dex 3 + Crinos 1 + Brawl 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8) [WP]

[Hard Knocks] [Str 3 + Crinos 4 + Leaping Rake 1 + Razor Claws 1]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

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

[OneSong] [Hold on, little Corroded Crab dude! There's mean wolves down there!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Rain of Brass Petals] [Shot number one: dex3+crinos1+archery4= 8 - 4, diff 6]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Rain of Brass Petals] [damage: str2+stheno1+crinos4+bow2+2=10]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

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

[Rain of Brass Petals] Come ooooon crab!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 4, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Rain of Brass Petals] Damage
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9 (Failure at target 6)

[Broken Hammer] They're not packmates. Nevertheless, the motion is seamless. The grey Forseti cuts in front of the dappled Gnawer, crouching. Her feet plant on his withers. He pushes up with all four limbs, with every ounce of his wiry strength.

She soars.

Broken Hammer tilts his head back to watch her go, waiting for her to slam into the thing, to drag it chittering and keening down to where the rest of them can tear it apart.

Hard Knocks ... claws it. And comes back down.

A terrible snarl bursts out of the Forseti. Whatever his usual demeanor, whatever his appearances of ironclad reticence and resilience, there's a different beast inside him, peering out the cracks in the armor. The moon is full. His hackles explode on end. His awareness of the world mists red; there's a roaring in his ears that drowns out the pinging of arrows off corroded metal.

"Idiot urrah whelp! Are you deaf!"


[redeclare:
R1. Leaping tackle?]

[Rain of Brass Petals] Shooooot iiiiiit.
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Rain of Brass Petals] Damage: str2+stheno1+crinos4+bow2+succ1= 10
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 6, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[OneSong] [Corroded Crab Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Rain of Brass Petals] [Redeclare: shooting a real arrow at this thing! +1 diff, WP!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2 (Success x 1 at target 7) [WP]

[Rain of Brass Petals] [Damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[OneSong] [Corroded Crab Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 6, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[OneSong] [[Wave of Desolation: Broken Hammer: Gnosis Vs. his WP, thus Diff 6]]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[OneSong] [[Wave of Desolation: Hard Knocks: Gnosis Vs. her WP, thus Diff 4]]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 4)

[OneSong] [[Wave of Desolation: Kindly One: Gnosis Vs. her WP, thus Diff 6]]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[OneSong] [[Wave of Desolation: Rain of Brass Petals: Gnosis Vs. her WP, thus Diff 5]]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[OneSong] Arrows soar into the air, each seeking the great hardshelled form that hugs the undergirders with fearsome tenacity. Arrows bounce from its shell, arrows sink in deep, but none manage to dislodge it.

And still that green light glows.

Below, the Fenrir roars his fury. He senses an opportunity lost. His battle instincts, Philodox that he is, warn him as to the incipient danger. It should not have been allowed to live a second longer. It should have been knocked down, it should have been stopped.

The keening grows louder. The keening grows louder, and louder, it gets beneath their skin like jagged glass knives. It gets into their heads like rats, scrabbling and scrawling impossible hyroglyphs in the bone. It rises and rises and rises, impossible, drowning out breath, drowning out thought, drowning out the world.

[OneSong] [[His roar is in his throat, is filling the air, his fury and admonition. This was not a time to fuck around, this was not a time to waste precious time and opportunity on foolish antics. Did this Cliath not understand? Did none of them understand? This was no game, no attempt to show off, in such battles were Garou killed, good warriors slaughtered. Betrayals of these kinds, attempts to show off were beyond foolish, they were criminally negligent. They were a blatant disregard for the lives of those who fought with them. Betrayal on all sides. None safe to trust. Strangers. Cold and darkness, the surety of blood. The power of one's own self. Nothing else can be trusted, not now, not when so much was at stake.

His breath an inferno in his throat. His heart a vast hammer. Weak. All are weak. All are destined to fail, to snap, to break. None adhere to the old ways. None know honor, none know duty. Weak. Pathetic. He'll die alone here, the last of his kind, die in this wretched street, roaring his futile defiance, surrounded by children, his chance at redemption lost.

That keening. That keening. It sears his mind. It drives him beyond wrath.

It summons up despair.]]
to Broken Hammer

[Kindly One] [WP, diff 5]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Kindly One] What can she do? They're all going to die, she knows it. Stupid useless woman, just a child, not strong enough to help them. Not strong enough not good enough not...

And so it goes. The wave of despair crashes over her, the sound of that keening wail stripping Alek of her strength, stealing warmth and everything good from her. Her arms relax at her sides, her knees trembling. She wants to drop, to give up and give in, curl up and let death take her useless life. She turns her head, looks at Adam. Little Adam, youngest sister, so small and fragile. She's a healer, she fights from a distance. It's up to Alek and Irene to protect her, keep her safe.

It's up to her to protect Alethea.

So she fights the despair, shoves it away from her with all her might. Her stance strengthens, and she moves. Moves for the creature, a low growl rumbling in her throat.

[redeclare!
reflexive: BOOP, no more heightened senses, sheath swords
1a: Jump!, diff 3 + 1 (changing actions)
1b: Grab crab
1c: Yank off the ceiling]

[Kindly One] [1a: Jump!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 9 (Failure at target 4)

[Kindly One] [1b: Throw sword (THAT'S RIGHT): dex + ath - 4, diff + 2 'cause Phil's mean!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 6 (Botch x 1 at target 8)

[Broken Hammer] WP, diff 4!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 4)

[Broken Hammer] Some fell resonance has been achieved between the creature's keening and the dark crawlspaces of his soul; the place where all his shame and guilt and fear resides. Broken Hammer howls in grief and rage, not like a wolf but like a simple beast, furious at the foolishness and the incoherence of those who fight with him, despairing at the opportunities he sees literally slipping out of his grasp.

He batters it back with sheer, ironbitten will. He summons rage from within himself, launching upward at the creature clinging to the underside of the overpass. Trailing slaver, he snaps for it --

but within, buried deep, hooks dragging him down, the despair. He'll never regain the honor he lost. He'll never learn to temper his wrath. He'll never bring pride to Fenris. He'll never get that fucking thing down where he can bite it. They'll never kill it. They'll never make it out of this alive.

He will not survive the night.

[Leap!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 3)

[Broken Hammer] (Body Tackle -- Dex+brawl vs diff 7+1(changing actions)+1(imperfect range))
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 7, 8 (Failure at target 9) [WP]

[Kindly One] [Reflexive to Daniel: "I'll boost you!"
R: Boost!: str + ath]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Broken Hammer] R2. Leap again!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 7, 7 (Success x 4 at target 3)

[Broken Hammer] Body Tackle, +1 for changing actions!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[OneSong] [Don't yank the crab, man! Don't yank the crab!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Broken Hammer] (Bashing Damage for slam, str+1succ)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Broken Hammer] (stay on feet! dex+ath diff 6)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[OneSong] [Crab soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 6, 6, 6, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Broken Hammer] R3. chomp!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[Broken Hammer] dam +4
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 7, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[OneSong] [Crab soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 9 (Failure at target 6)

[Kindly One] [+8]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[OneSong] [Crab Init +7]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 9, 9, 9, 10

[Rain of Brass Petals] [8+1d10]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[Hard Knocks] [+7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7

[Broken Hammer] 9
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5 (Failure at target 6)

[OneSong] [CRAB INIT I SAID +7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7

[OneSong] Order of Declare:

[Broken Hammer/Hard Knocks/Crab All at Once
Kindly One/Rain]

[Rain of Brass Petals] [WP: IWANT TO DO THINGS!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 8 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Kindly One] [1a/b/c: SLICE YOU MOTH-UH-FOCKA, WP on last slice
R: Slice!
R: Slice!]

[Rain of Brass Petals] action: Rite of Cleansing (bitch, you 'bout to be clean)

[OneSong] [Crabby crab crab keens more]

[Hard Knocks] [1a) Claw
1b) Claw
R1) Claw
R2) Claw]

[Broken Hammer] 2Rage to actions
1a Targeted bite: whatever's emitting the keening, if possible!
b
R1
R2 -- all bites.

[Broken Hammer] (WP to act!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 5, 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 4)

[Broken Hammer] -2 dice, +2 diff!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 5, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Broken Hammer] dam +2
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

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

[Broken Hammer] b. -3 dice, normal diff
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 6, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Broken Hammer] +4!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[OneSong] [Crab soak for realzies now]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Hard Knocks] Urrah whelp, are you deaf?!

The stiffening in her shoulders is visible when that rings out, and the girl is then . . . bowled into by a wall of despair. Useless, you're useless, dumb kid, always in fights, always causing trouble, skipping class failure useless dumb piece of shit they'll all die because you didn't listen you never listen why don't you listen useless urrah trash and oh, her arms and legs feel heavy.

(Please?)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[Hard Knocks] 1a) Dex 3 + Crinos 1 + Brawl 3
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 7, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Hard Knocks] Same roll, -2 because teh dum.
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Hard Knocks] [Str 3 + Crinos 4 + Razor Claws 1 + Claw 1 + Sux 1 (Jeebus!)]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[OneSong] [Corroded Crab soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Hard Knocks] Dex 3 + Crinos 1 + Brawl 3 - 3 = 4
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Hard Knocks] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 6, 8, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[OneSong] [[Wave of Desolation: Broken Hammer: Gnosis Vs. his WP, thus Diff 6]]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 6, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[OneSong] [[Wave of Desolation: Hard Knocks: Gnosis Vs. her WP, thus Diff 4]]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 3, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 4)

[OneSong] [[Wave of Desolation: Kindly One: Gnosis Vs. her WP, thus Diff 6]]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 6, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[OneSong] [[Wave of Desolation: Rain of Brass Petals: Gnosis Vs. her WP, thus Diff 5]]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 7, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 5)

[OneSong] [Summary of new Diffs:

Hammer = 8
Knocks = 3
Kindly = 8
Rain = 7]

[Rain of Brass Petals] [WP: I want to aaaaact!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 7 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Kindly One] [WP!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Kindly One] [1a: Slice: - 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Kindly One] [damage: str + 2 + 1 (talen) + 0][L]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[OneSong] [Crab soak Kindly slice!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 2, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Kindly One] [1b: Slice: - 4]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Kindly One] [damage: str + 2 + 1 + 1][L]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[OneSong] [Crab soak Kindly slice!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Kindly One] [1c: Slice: - 5 + WP]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]

[Kindly One] [damage: str + 2 + 1 + 1][L]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[OneSong] [Crab soak Kindly slice!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Rain of Brass Petals] The walls were breathing.

Everything was so close and she couldn't think and she couldn't do anything except struggle for control and beg, moan, plead with the universe to give her some kind of leeway, to make it feel as though this wasn't all worthless... she is supposed to know the spirits, failure, failure, failure all of it. Never should have changed. Never should have come, never should have let her sister come into this.

She failed them all.

Her breathing shudders, and her arm starts to shake. Whatever arrow she had knocked back and ready to fire falters, and she feels her body falter. And, she looks at her sister. She knows they protect her, she knows that they take their strength and put their bodies and their minds and their being on the line because she's too weak too useless too worthless as a theurge to truly help them.

She doesn't deserve sisters like them,, and now? Now they're all going to die.

Alethea Adamidas is...

She is...

She's...

She is not going to be a liability. Not to her sisters. Not to her friends, not to those that she has sworn to protect. The Fury lets out a low, mournful cry, but it turns to something vicious, filled with agony and ire. She is a Black Fury, they were given coats of ebony so their enemies would know fear. She gritted her teeth, and the Fury howled a sound of woeful defiance.

She was hanging by a thread, and though it felt hopeless for her, though she knew she was worthless, she was hopeless, she was useless, she would not let her sister down. She would not disappoint her, nor Pegasus.

She might have been a shitty archer, and an ineffective theurge, but she was the only one they had.

That was worth something, right?

[Rite of Cleansing!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[OneSong] [Corroded Crab Resists the Cleansing!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Hard Knocks] I. am. not. a. failure. I am scarred for my success. I am hideous for the Nation that bore me. I. will. win.

Maggots. Death. Failure (I will not. be. a . . .) and certain destruction and the walls are breathing bleeding space is shrinking death is coming they can't (I will!) win and never doing what's right never knowing what's right.

But next to her, Rain of Brass Petals keens, sings to the air around them. Kindly One's swords snick and slash, and Broken Hammer's teeth snap into glowing ichor, into steel carapace. They are together. They are a team, they are strong. They are warriors, they are just, and they. will. triumph.
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 4 at target 3)

[OneSong] The Theurge struggles forward, weaves past the other warriors as they circle and attack the keening foe, and with an outstretched willow branch she begins to move as fast as she can about the crab, tracing a path with her words and will, feeing her focus and determination despite the pain and abject misery she is subjected to, that keening hellish sound.

She dances, weaves a path, and slowly, her might, her power, begins to exert itself, no matter how tenuously over the spirit.

The corrosion on its carapace begins to lighten, the sickly green color of its crown begins to lighten to a pale, sapphire burn. The crushed carapace, the grevious damage even takes on a brighter hue, a clearner metallic burnish.

With her one powerful circle of the crab, she robs it of its corruption, its foulness, such that when she reaches where she started, they all face a now gleaming, chrome colored arachnied, no longer crab shaped but more geometric, still spider legged but faceted now, the crown an ordered array of spindles that glow electric blue.

It takes stock of them.

Emergency protocal 1033A7 it intones in a powerful, penetrating voice, the keening having ceased. Requesting aid from local Geomid Centers, calling Hunter Spiders. Emegency protocol 1033A7, requesting aid from local Geomid centers, calling Hunter Spiders...

It's on repeat. What was used moments ago to tear their minds apart is now being used for its proper function--to broadcast, into the city. No longer a devastating keen, its message now seems instead to sink into the Pattern Web. And how far it might extend?

Time will surely tell.

[Broken Hammer] Like Sisyphus's stone, his despair grows tenfold for each time he manages to lift it. Broken Hammer can barely summon the will to resist at all, let alone beat it back. Broken Hammer would like nothing more than to lie down, put his chin on his paws, and wait for the inevitable.

The elders say the world will end in a rain of ashes regardless of what they might do. There is no salvation. There is only the glory of a good death, but really:

who the fuck cares?

Broken Hammer is sinking to his haunches when -- just like that -- the crippling haze of despair lifts. He blinks, bewildered and dazed, as the spider begins to trumpet its SOS. His ears prick. His hackles go back up. He whines uncertainly; looks to the others to take his cue from them.

[bump his R1 down to after the others!]

[Hard Knocks] I. am. not. a. failure. I am scarred for my success. I am hideous for the Nation that bore me. I. will. win.

Maggots. Death. Failure (I will not. be. a . . .) and certain destruction and the walls are breathing bleeding space is shrinking death is coming they can't (I will!) win and never doing what's right never knowing what's right.

But next to her, Rain of Brass Petals keens, sings to the air around them. Kindly One's swords snick and slash, and Broken Hammer's teeth snap into glowing ichor, into steel carapace. They are together. They are a team, they are strong. They are warriors, they are just, and they. will. triumph.

And then, the keening stops. The crushing weight of defeat lifts (oh, but does it really? What if the beast had been right, its assessment true, what if what if whatif) and with all the effort she can muster, Hard Knocks drives her claws into that hateful crown and rakes through.

[Dex 3 + Crinos 1 + Brawl 3 + WP (down to 1WP)]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]

[Hard Knocks] [Strength 3 + Crinos 4 + Razor 1 + Claw 1 + Sux 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 4, 6, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[OneSong] [Clever, clean crab soaks!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Hard Knocks] [hold R2 for possible geomid incursion]

[Kindly One] Alek slashes ineffectively at the crab-like creature as Adam performs the cleansing rite. The corruption lifts, and the crushing waves of despair cease. The effects remain, especially after such a futile display as the sword slashes Alek delivered. She's weak without Irene. She's not strong enough to protect Adam. She's failed her sister's as alpha to their pack, and as a Mother of the tribe.

She tries to shake it off. It doesn't matter, in the end. Fighting is what they were born to do. Destroying corrupted Weaver constructs is just one of the things they have to do, part of their job. If nothing else, Alek will go down fighting, spending every last bit of her will railing against this thing.

[R1: Slice]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Kindly One] [damage: str + 2 + 1 + 1][L]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 4, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[OneSong] [Clean Crab soak! Could be bad if it doesn't!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 6, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Broken Hammer] As the others lunge for the spider, Broken Hammer falls in with them, snapping his teeth at the nearest limb.
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 4, 6, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2

[Broken Hammer] 2
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[OneSong] [Clean Crab Soak!]

[OneSong] [Clean Crab Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Broken Hammer] R2 - same!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 6, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 5)

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

[OneSong] [Ouchies.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Hard Knocks] Claw, +1 diff
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Hard Knocks] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 7, 7, 7, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

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

[OneSong] A moment, a pause, a break in their ferocity as its voice bleeds forth into the air, audible and probably more, probably working on ranges that they can't even detect. Its voice echoes through the canyons about them, into the sky, sinks into the earth, and then with snarls and fury they fall upon it, claws and talons and fangs and rage, shredding and gauging and gutting and ripping.

Emergency protocal 103...3A7, it says, voice becoming distorted as they gut the thing. Urgently... urgent...urrrge...ennnt.....

And then Hard Knocks digs her claw deep into its corpus, and with a shower of blue sparks, the crab twitches, spasms, and the lights on its spindles sputter and go out.

Only the final echoes of its call ring out, growing weaker and distant, till its only heard as a memory in each of their minds.

Emegency protocol 1033A7. Requesting aid from local Geomid centers, calling Hunter Spiders.

[Rain of Brass Petals] All there is now, is silence.

It echoes in her brain, and she looks at her companions. She inspects them for damages, she inspects them for problems, she stops, and-

"Move."

She didn't know how many hunter spiders would be necessary to end them, but she knew that the Namer would send many. Would keep sending them in relentless force. They did not need to be sitting ducks.

Not now.

[Broken Hammer] It's not triumph that sparks in Broken Hammer's eyes but uncertainty. His tail is not held saber-curved and high; it's very nearly tucked. His ears are still back.

Rain of Brass Petals does not need to speak twice. The Forseti wheels on his haunches, drops into lupus form, and stretches his lean frame into a flatout run beside the Fury.

"I am not sure," he pants to his makeshift warpack, paws hitting umbral dirt, "that was the right thing to do. The Weaver is no friend to Gaia, but nor is it Wyrm, and we are not Litany-bound to destroy it. Its taint was cleansed. We have no indication that it would have harmed us further. It was calling in self-defense when we tore it to shreds. Now I fear the vengeance of its fellows. I fear more than such vengeance would be just."

[Broken Hammer] (I fear more THAT...)

[Hard Knocks] "We could take 'em . . ."

Hard Knocks is overconfident. Its also her moon, and . . . well. But no. There would be many, and they would be fierce, and calcificaton isn't that interesting as a part of science classes and doesn't sound fun at all. And Broken Hammer's thoughts make the decision for her. Killing the thing when it had been tainted was one thing, destroying it after it had been cleansed was another entirely. It's enough to bring that voice ringing back into her head doesn't do what's right never knows what's right just acts impulsive doesn't think, and a whine to her throat. But she, too, wheels to get away from the dead spider-construct-thing. And, as before, running is a joy, and it shows.

[Kindly One] Alek doesn't waste any time, either. As Annie sinks her claws into the Weaver creature's body, the Philodox moves to retrieve her lost sword. It and its sister are returned to her wrists. Her fur is too dark to show the tattoos. Like the Forseti, she shifts down to Lupus and runs with her sister.

She doesn't speak her agreement with the Forseti, but it's true. Now that the signal has been severed, something would be coming to investigate. Who knows how many Hunters would be sent to track them down?

"Brave words, Full-Moon." It's all she says to them.

[Rain of Brass Petals] her movements are imidiate, and they are born of what she feels is right. The theurge is fast. Very fast, though of all of them she seems to be the one who is the most tired. Broken Hammer is unsure if they did the right thing in killing the weaverling, but she does not comment. Not yet.

Instead, the theurge runs with the makeshift warpack.

[Hard Knocks] "'Course they are." It's with a grin, shot to her companions. "On account of, like, we're awesome. Fuckin' sweet." And that, it seems, is that.

[Broken Hammer] Broken Hammer snaps irritably at Hard Knocks, but otherwise ignores her boasts and enthusiasm. His stride is long and swift, born more of pure physical potential than any athletic training.

"We cannot return to the Caern or our packs. Not yet. We need to get across the Gauntlet as soon as it is safe, and then we must part ways and keep away from our dear ones until we are certain we are not being hunted. Else the danger is too great."

[OneSong] [OK guys: fall out from this scene: consider yourselves marked by the Weaver to a small degree for the duration of Feb. This means that Weaver spirits take note of you, and if you stray close to any Weaver strongholds, they may come and try and grab you. Practically speaking, do not linger in the Umbra close to Weaver activity, but no need to ST anything unless you actively want trouble. It's as if they've gone to a 3 out of 10 on the Weaver wanted list for the month of Feb. Any questions?]
to Broken Hammer, Hard Knocks, Kindly One, Rain of Brass Petals

[Kindly One] [nope!]
to Broken Hammer, Hard Knocks, OneSong, Rain of Brass Petals

[Broken Hammer] [aye-aye, cap'n! thanks for the STing!]

[Hard Knocks] ((None here!))
to Broken Hammer, Kindly One, OneSong, Rain of Brass Petals

[OneSong] [My pleasure! Thanks for taking part. This was an experiment for future SL ideas of mine. Wanted to test certain theories. *grins and logs off*]
to Broken Hammer, Hard Knocks, Kindly One, Rain of Brass Petals

[Rain of Brass Petals] ((That was AWESOME PHIL! *hugs!*))