2018.05.28 Izayah's Klaive
| A Tale of Vengeance | |
|---|---|
| The Pack Parabellum goes on a mission to return an Artifact of the Wyrm from Gaian clutches. | |
| IC Date | May 28, 2019 |
| IC Time | Night |
| Players | Harano, Izayah, Ramona Altenbach, Trent Bellamy, Estrella, Russ(ST) |
| Location | The Pit of Shattered Souls - The Temple |
| Spheres | Wyrm |
This is the first in a series of Fetish based PRPs. I will be working with different players to create on-going organic storylines around actual items in game. If this sounds interesting to you see my others posts on the bb and reach out to me. -Russ
The sun beats warm down upon the bleak, dry lands of the Cobre Desert when that star, during the days the temperatures range from in the 80's to 100's peaking on off about 115 degrees and if one is lucky or rather smart enough, they'll have brought with them some water to parch themselves from the dry heat and quench their thirst. The land itself is thick with bristles of cacti, brown shrubs though it still retains elegant flora of all sorts of mystical colors.
Several miles from the mine shaft which leads to the Pit of Shattered Souls we find their Ritemaster left in a bloody pile of limbs. Russ was left laying in the Umbral desert and he is using the rest of his strength to summon a few Banes. The ritemaster is wounded but is far from dead and whispers to the little bane by his side, "Find me a spiral pack, find them fast."
Russ picked himself a fast Bane, the little creature looks like a roadrunner with black inky feathers and it zips into Izayah's pack's house with a rush. The bane isn't visible at first but something whips around the room, knocking over stacks of papers and moving so quickly it can't be seen or comprehended. It bashes around the room, very much in the tellurian and very much tangible at present.
Trent's obviously taken aback by the sudden appearance of a dashing little bird from nowhere. He slips his knife from his belt, and calls to the others, whomever is within earshot of the Galliard's voice. And he knows how to make it carry. "Is this Thomas?" He'd only seen the bird once, and he's fairly certain that is not a raven, but you never know with Buzzards. "Or should I try to kill it?"
Ramona was resting in the converted church. The Metis pup the pack tends is asleep in another room, giving her the chance to relax upstairs in her's. But no. A legitimate tiny tornado starts to tear up the joint, and she's hauling herself up onto her feet and looking down over the edge of the converted choir loft space into the room below. "...the fuck... we got a poltergeist or something?!" The Ragabash seems slightly short on temper as she growls and flexes, but then her house was just invaded. Probably understandable. Her eyes try to track the thing, a blur that even keen sight struggles to pinpoint. "That's no Buzzard that I know of."
Having just got out of the shower, Izayah is lumbering out of the bathroom with a towel draped over his shoulder and nothing else as he squints his eyes at the chaos that is spinning about the room. He lets out a low rumble and shifts upwards into his crinos form, trading skin for fur as he snaps at his jaws. ~Stop moving you fucking shit!~ He growls out as he flattens his ears back. ~It's a bane. JACK. GET IN HERE.~ He hollers.
Harano says, “Dont kill it!" Jack yelled from one of the back rooms sounding slightly annoyed at Trents question. He appeard from that back room, flecks of paint splattered on his pants and bare chest. "Whats this then?" He asked whiping his fingers on his jeans as he leaned down taking a knee. <<Calm yourself. Youve come here for a reason yes?>> He asked tilting his head, his voice calm.”
The little black blur comes to a stop so sharply it seems to *thwang* and reverberate on the spot like a guitar string, stopping itself right in front of Izayah and looking up at him. It lets out a, <Meep, meep!> In spirit speech that, (when translated by those with the gift of Spirit Speech) sounds more like, "Pack! Pack!" The little bane stands stock still and its large too red eyes cut from one member to another, <Angu'Da Staagra is wounded. He calls for your aid.> And of course, anyone who can't understand spirit speech simply hears a series of, <Meep. Meep. Meeeep. Morp. Meerp.>
Trent is stopped by Harano, though he doesn't put the knife away. His blank-looking baby blues are telling that he has no clue what the thing is saying. "Translate?" he requests of the Adren, still having his back, as much as he's able. But the thing does not seem to mean them any harm. Their house...
Ramona makes her way down the spiral staircase to the main room, her own face looking terse but no more understanding than Trent. Like the Galliard, she looks to their Theurge for translation duties. "Yeah, and how many guns do we need to bring?" Rolling his shoulders, Kra'chkk rubs his claws into his fuzzy chest, then looks to Jack for the translation. Harano raises a finger toward Trent. "One sec." blinks suddenly. <<Where? Did he communicate anything else to you?>> Meanwhile the Theurge reached for his duffle bag." Russ is Mortally wounded, and has sent this one to find us. "He says simply continuing to keep his eyes on the roadrunner.
The little bane continues to stand stock still as it waits for the translation. When Harano questions the little bane meeps out his answers quickly, "In the desert. Near the Hive. Find him. Follow me." Then it runs out the door and disappears into the umbra without waiting to properly be followed.
---TRAVEL---
After parking the stolen Audi, which has become Izayah's pride and joy, he rolls out of the vehicle and grabs his duffle bag from the trunk. He has his sniper rifle inside, locked and loaded with silver, and his Fang Dagger on his hip. He rolls his shoulders as he starts off in the direction of the others as Ramona's nose leads the way. Trent slips his normal bag over his shoulder, and gets his knife back in hand. If nothing else, the trio have some pretty singing to listen to as they drive, while the Galliard warms up for screaming his head off at something! "You have that Mother's Touch Gift, Harano?" he asks the Theurge. They're going to need to heal the Preceptor somehow. Harano nods quickly at Trents question. He wastes no time however once they run out of road, taking the van off road as good as he could, and shifting into his lupin form the rest of the way, only skidding to a halt as he reached the other theurge. He shifted back to his human form and began to use his gifts to heal the fallen dancer. Words were unspoken for the time being, his hands reaching into the wounds as he used mothers touch. A painful experience that would end with Russ better off than they had found him
At the sight of reinforcements he pushes slowly to his feet and sliiiides almost effortlessly across the Gauntlet to greet them.
Russ is standing a mile off the road with nothing around him for miles. The sand at his feet is bloody and he has a large gash in his torso ringed red with the angry lines of a silver injury. He raises a hand in greeting when he sees them approach and the action causes him to take a knee in pain. He retains that posture, on one knee in the sand, watching them get closer, "I was ambushed. A pack of four, at least two of them were silver fangs and-" Russ sounds annoyed and at least slightly embarassed, "They cut me with my own fuckin' sword. I had to bail." He curses a whole string of obscenities fit for a Scotsman. "It took me three fuckin' years to make that sword." If anyone tries to get close enough to heal him he'll dismiss them moodily and insist, "I'm fine, I'm fuckin' fine, but if those assholes take apart my sword I'm gonna be six kinds of pissed. Izayah, if your pack can get back my fuckin' klaive I'll let you keep the damn thing. I just don't want see it destroyed."
There is a raise of the brow from Izayah, then he unzips the duffle bag to take out his rifle. Attaching the scope to the top of it, he click-clacks a round into the chamber. "You had me at keep the sword, baby. Point us in their direction and we'll do our thing. You aren't gonna bleed out here on the sand are you? You should let Jack lick you at least once to get you moving again."
Ramona doesn't judge the Elder for getting jumped and robbed. At least outwardly, because she likely enjoys living, even if her face seems to vaguely suggest otherwise this evening. "Two Fangs, good, more fun to dismantle. Which way were they? If you got a name, I'll see if I can track 'em. Unlucky for them, we brought our own silver." She tips her head towards Izayah's question regarding bleeding in silent agreement with his concern.
Harano takes a step back as he is waved away from helping the other dancer. "Well Youd be no use to anyone if your losing so much blood your unable to think straight, and im sure you dont want to die out here, or give a coyote the honor of slaying you in your current state." He countered but said nothing more on the subject for the moment.
Trent's vapid little smile is on display, and he tugs the handkerchief from his throat, exposing the grotesque biomechanical fetish in the hollow of his neck. "Which way, Ramona?" he asks, about the Fangs, ready to shift up into his larger warform. But not yet.
"Fuck, I'm fine. I just wanted to make sure someone was going after those assholes before I headed back to the Pit or my house. I didn't want them to circle back around and follow me." Russ takes out a nasty looking club from a bag on his back and beats himself in the chest with it a few times... literally smacking his wounds closed and leaving behind nasty Wyrmish knots of scars. "See fine." He shoots Harano a look and then staggers, catching air in his lungs like it hurts, "Fine. Come put a hand on me, if you must, I think my liver is lacerated. I need my liver... and I can't hit it with my club." And he winks at him, just to leave it somewhere between an insult and a friendly bit of big brother teasing. "I heard one name, I think it was Jarlstorm. Must have been a rite name." He gestures vaguely to the East, "I'm not sure. I ran." This certainly isn't his proudest moment and he knows exactly how he ended up here but that's a story for another day.
"Well, you can smack your own liver, but you'd have to get to it first. So a bit counter productive." Ramona says blandly, a halfhearted attempt at human as she curls up her lip in a distasteful gesture at the name. "It'll work." She steps back to let the healing be done, walking a few steps away to look easterly and start her work on trying to track the thieves.
There's a loud snort from Izayah. "Sounds like a Get of Fenris. That one is mine." Bringing the rifle up to stare through the lens, he adjusts the scope a bit to ensure it's calibrated correctly. "Remember to apply your wyrm hide before we go into battle. Let's see if Thrace does what she promised us." He says in regards to the small upgrade their totem has delivered them recently.
Harano smirked back at Russ giving a nod before, leaning down and placing one arm on his shoulder and one over the place where he knew the liver to be. " Yep, this might hurt a bit. " Russ would hear the other theurge say, before feeling his fist slam down hard into him. It was fast and hurt like hell, as though Jack was trying to do further damage to the man. Jack took a quick step backwards as his gift went to work healing Russ, replacing the pain and damgage with a breif morphine like effect before tapering off.
Russ takes the healing punch like a champ and he laughs it off with a nod of silent thanks to Harano, "Good luck, don't get yerselves killed. I'm gonna go make sure the rest of the Hive knows we've got trouble in the desert."
It will take several hours to catch up with the pack known as Sunbird's Stolen Song. The Gaian pack has a rudimentary camp set up in the desert which consists of two tents, four garou and a small fire. Their fire can be spotted at a great distance during the night. The desert offers no cover save for the heavy shadows of night and the occasional dune in the terrain.
"Take your Wyrm Hide once you shift." The Alpha rumbles to the pack silently as the spy the fire in the distance. He crouches down, shifting fluidly, then holds his scope out as he summons his thicker hide beneath his black fur.
Dra'si'assh takes most of the trip in Lupus, all the easier to travel across the desert. Her pale buff-grey makes her all but blend in to the sand. With the additional boon of the Blurring gift, she practically becomes one with the sand. Only the connection with her pack makes it easy even for them to follow her as she tracks their quarry across the long hours. As they approach, she slows and hunkers low, taking to the Crinos form as she does so. Like the Ahroun, she focuses on activating the gift of the Wyrm's armor. << Alright, what's the plan? >>
Aiming down the scope, Izayah flicks the infrared on as he squints his eye shut. Creeping forward slowly through the desert, he swivels his sights between one tent and the other. << Trent is going to cause a distraction, and I'm gonna plug 'em when they pop out. Keep yourself low to the ground, let the shadows keep you safe. I got sights. >>
Through the scope Izayah can see that 3 of the garou are sat around the fire: 2 in homid, 1 is sleeping at their feet in lupus(a white wolf) and one is not visible. Ramona will see this if she gets close enough with her stealthyness.
<< Three at the fire. One in lupus, two in homid. Lupus is a white wolf, obvious Fang. >> Iz rumbles through their pack speech. He tightens the silencer on his sniper. << I can take a shot and pick off the homid first. Let me get the element of surprise. >>
Dra'si'assh doesn't venture too far from the pack, but she does creep forward and angling towards the side in order to set up a flank for when the battle begins. She's got her Fang Dagger held in one Crinos hand, using the other three limbs in a slow tripod stalk. The slightest shrub, rock, or dune; she'll stick close, all the more opportunity for her figure to remain indistinct and hopefully unnoticed. She hears the crack of the shot, but she doesn't strike just yet. She'll wait for the them to leave the brightness of the fire's light.
As his Galliard howls to the sky to send a terrifying noise for miles, Kra'chkk keeps himself steady, breathing slowly as his large claw fingers the trigger of his sniper. He stares down the sights, feels Thrace in his veins, then pulls the trigger as a 'paf' is heard from the silenced weapon. A second later, the head explodes like one of Gallagher's watermelons, a gush of blood erupting like a beautiful fountain as the body falls forward into the fire to cook. Harano mirrors Ramonas movement however keeping closer to the sniper and keeping low, eyes pealed so as to keep the sniper gaurded.
Around the fire chaos breaks out as the Beta known as Jarlstorm literally loses his head from the silver bullet shot by Kra'chkk. Headless the Beta falls over from his seat and lands on top of Sunsear the Lupus Silver Fang. The female galliard lets out a howl of sorrow and rage as she shifts up to her Crinos form.
Fenrir's Folly the Ragabash was the other homid sat around the fire and he also shifts to Crinos when their Beta falls, calling to their Alpha.
A large male Silver Fang bursts out of the tent in Crinos and he releases a mighty war howl when he see the corpse of his Beta lying in ruins by their fire. <<Show Yourselves!>>
Ok. He is probibly more than a football feilds distance away, no gun. His only job is to protect the sniper and heal for now. The only thing he can do from this distance ...right? Wrong. "Hey! You Nazi loving white trash, peice of shit. When Im done throat fucking your Beta, Im gonna suck fuck your eyesocket so hard your mommas going to moan my name, while licking my ass. (Harano)
The sight of his dead Beta gets a snarl out of the Alpha known as Fiero and he turns ready to howl his displeasure at the shooter in the distance. ... only to be met with Harano's insult carrying on the wind. It catches him off guard and he snarls his displeasure deep in his throat torns somewhere between confusion and pure unadultered revulsion. He didn't even want to dignify these creatures with a fight, "Fall back." He calls to his pack.. too late perhaps..
As the pack's resplendent Alpha managed to shrug off a bullet but not an insult, Dra'si'assh doesn't pause to relish the poetry of it. She breaks from her hiding spot with a surge of gift-blurred motion. There's the dull catch of firelight on an arcing mammoth ivory and coyote-toothed blade as the Spiral Ragabash swings it for Fiero. In a gout of red, the blade is buried in the Fang's skull and she rides him to the ground. He's not changing forms, but he's got a knife in his head too.
Fenrir's Folly snarls at Sh'raii as he approaches and the Ragabash puts all his hatefire into the sound, making it almost intimidating enough to render fear in the Spirals. He bares his Crinos teeth and raises his claws at the sight of his Alpha trying to retreat, <<Fiero! You fool!>> He takes a step backwards but too late to escape. Far too late.
Luna's armor flashes pearlescent and perfect over the shining white Crinos coat of Sunsear, <<Don't speak ill of the dead or you'll soon join them.>> She warns, also looking as if she were ready to flee and turning tail once Ramona strikes down their Alpha.
It's not ground pound explosion, just the modified metal and twisted cartilege modifications of Sh'raii's fetishes. But it sounds as loud as one. As ragged and hateful as Folly's snarl, mingled with a prisoner's frustration and a touch of triumph from the Wyrm, where the scream of Gaia has none. And the shockwave smashes into anyone nearby, sending them off their feet, with bruises for their troubles.
The shockwave knocks the remaining pack members off their feet and prone to attack... it will be up to Parabellum how their fates end. The mission is accomplished, the sword recovered. Bloodshed for the Wyrm soaks the ground and the world is right again.
The grin that Dra'si'assh turns on Fenrir's Folly is maniacal and meets fear with mad fury, her palest grey coat warped and pocked with the scaly, crusty armor of the Wyrm. << Hello, cousin. >> She sneers at that snarling visage, her voice all oil and merry hatred. She pulls free the blade from their Alpha's head as she stands on him like the finest of doormats, holding the weapon ready in front of her and staring at the remaining Gaians past the dripping red edge. << Make this fun for us. *RUN*.>> Not that it helps that she's then knocked off her perch by her packmate's scream, but that sound may be the last straw for the last of the pack's resolve. Unlikely they'd even have the chance to recover and get far before the rest of Thrace's children are on them.
There is a loud snort from Kra'chkk as he glances over at Harano, giving him a toothy grin. << The fuck was that? You said you'd fuck the guy in his eye socket? Geezus Christ. >> He pulls the rifle up and waits for that sweet moment that Trent knocks them all down like cute Gaian bowling pins. << Suck it, fuckers. >> He says as he fires off another shot, popping the ragabash in the head from her downed state. Splat. << Good job, baby! >> He calls out to Ramona, giving the Galliard a clasp on the shoulder as he passes him with his lumbering strides.
Sh'raii takes his bow, but he seems a little freaked out, and Kra'chkk can feel the tension in the normally happy Galliard's shoulder. Folly might not live another day, but that snarl still made the Dancer unnerved.
Dra'si'assh hoists her Crinos face off the ground and snorts and coughs out sand. She eyes the now dead or dropped foes in front of her, which just adds to the headless one and the Alpha she's half sprawled over. << Damnit! >> She howl-snarls over her shoulder towards the Galliard. << I was-- >> Hack. << Having a moment! >> She works on pulling herself up to her feet while grumbling and rubbing her free hand against one of her blasted and ringing ears while she backs off. Her pack is here, they can handle the last one while she heals her eardrums.
Click-Clack. Kra'chkk pulls up his weapon again as he stares down the sights, then lets out another 'paf' from the end of his silenced rifle. The last Garou drops as easily as the rest of their pack. << Bunch of rookies, going camping in the desert after attacking one of our brothers. Dumb bitches should have hit the Umbra running for their fucking life. >> He gives a smirk to Dra'si'assh, then leans down to yank the silver sword off the Alpha's body, turning it about in his paw to admire it.
Sh'raii gives the Den Mother a sheepish sort of smile, odd looking on his large, fanged maw, ears folding back. Then he's slinking over to the Ahroun to get a look at the sword they'd come for.
