2021.02.08 What Happens in Vegas Pt 2 - Stays Here

What Happens in Vegas Pt 2 - Stays Here
{{{summary}}}
IC Date	2/8/21
Players	Branton, BryanO, and Tawney as ST
Prp/Tp	What Happens in Vegas
Theme Song	Woodkid - Run Boy Run - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmc21V-zBq0

It's been a few days since the events at the rest area an hour outside of the city. Word has come back from Gaia's Hope that the boy they saved is starting to settle in. He's heartbroken over the loss of his brother, but he's trying. Resilient kid.

There's still that nagging sense of incoming trouble to the sensitives of the trio, that pre-storm 'pressure'. In Tawney it manifests as restless evenings and a spotless home - stress cleaning.

There's more, though, an unease in the Umbra, a ripple among the spirits. They have their own pecking order, their own rumors and gossipers, in a sense. And something near the northwestern border, a bit out of the city, has begun to upset that natural order.

Branton is glad to hear that the kid is settling in, he's got a rough road ahead but now at least he has any road at all. Getting rumbles of something odd going on right after he gets that message gives branton the inclination to call Bryan and Tawney, It couldn't have been a coincidence "I think we've got something to follow up on. Nothing specific just...disturbances in the Force as it were."

"Yeah? Alright. Well, let's get to it." Analisa still isn't allowed at the house. There is no place safer than with Duck. He gives Tawney ALL the kisses - every single one of them and probably a little more R rated action before he tells her what's going on and then headsa out with Branton, leaving his Location on so she knows where he's at - or at least where his phone is

Kisses traded, Tawney locks up the house and checks all the windows and doors, then settles in to wait.

Tracking the source of the disturbance in the spirits isn't terribly straight forward. In essence, it's akin to when a new predator carves out a chunk of territory and begins pissing on things. It pushes other critters away, bumping into /other/ territories and spaces until the jostling ripples outward in an effort to ease that pressure.

Chasing that pressure leads that pair towards one of those little clusters that might have once been part of something, but that something died off, leaving a branch, outside of town,that's withered up into the likeness of a ghost town. There's a few stubborn old coots, but mostly addicts and the utterly destitute call places like this home. The broken, without hope. Kids with hollow stares and parents that have been chewed up and spit out by the world, trod upon until they shatter.

The signs and symptoms of the Wyrm's touch are subtle, but they thread throughout the area, little veins beneath the surface, spreading their madness and corruption. Writing reality out to disk. Please wait... Reality saved. Thank you for your patience.

Branton comments to Bryan as they start tracking spirit disturbances and looking around "I found a buyer for the knife I lent you on our last outing. If it comes to it I've got an amulet that does about the same thing that you can borrow. Except it'll let you sink your claws into whatever you can see. For tracking down the source of this, I've got a thing I can try if you don't have a plan worked out."

"Yeah? Alright. I don't have anything worked out. I realize this is a problem, but if you have a thing, throw it at me and I'll use it." Bryan is getting REALLY sick of his nights being interrupted by this bullshit. This time, he's going to kill more than a 14 year old cub

Branton passes Bryan the Amulet "No activation required, just wear it and you can stab, strangle, bite, or shoot anything you can see."

Bryan nods, taking the amulet and draping it over his neck, tucking it into his shirt for safekeeping. "You're a whole box load of Big Boy Helper," Bryan says, with some weird sense of sincerity. "Thank you for dragging me out into this. I worry, you know? There are people after Tawney and.. I mean, I'll fuck them up and end the threat, but it's nice to have someone who can do shit. Thanks, man."

It's akin to termites or dry rot in a sense. The surface of the place looks... run down, but not too awful. Being able to see the things teeming under it, what is causing the decay gives the area a whole different feel. The natural order out of balance. Twisted in purpose.

The epicenter of the changes seems to be a rather basic-bitch two story place. The paint is all gone, just enough left hinting that it was once a cheery light yellow with white trim. Now it's silvered, weathered wood shingles and busted windows. The garage door is long gone, giving it the appearance of a toothless maw, yawning in the shadows. Even the shadows slant in a way the gives it a sinister appearance. The place is crawling with tiny little tainted spirits. The way a clutch of teensy baby spiders will linger near their egg sac after hatching.

Branton settles in to his dowsing and tracing the energies of the area after giving Bryan a smile and nod. When they find the central ick, Branton's stomach churns a bit and he frowns "Well, this is as detailed as I get without actually going inside the place. I can say with a reasonable degree of confidence that this is it though."

Bryan's nose crinkles and he nods. "Yeah, Anything you need to do in here before we... charge in and fuck some shit up?" Bryan looks around, checking for people. Anything on THIS side, really, even briefly turning off everything except the real world to get a really good look around

Branton takes out a little bottle of something blue and drinks it "Resist Pain." Then a small crysaline sphere that he clenches in his fist and then his skin slightly shimmers, only visible if you're right up on him or maybe in the dark "Luna's Armor." Then he thinks for a moment and nods "That should be fine."

There's movement within the home that isn't just those creepy, skittering nascent spirits. A watcher on the second floor, and motion beyond a window, a light on, glimpsed at a mostly hidden basement window. A shadow, there, briefly blocking the wane light. Three? More?

A text hits both their phones at once.

Danny's gone missing.

Branton frowns as he gets the text and considers "The forty eight hours inital isolation must have been up and they decided he wasn't a flight risk so no supermax for him. I don't think he ran, I think he was stolen. With some sort of rite or spell."

Bryan frowns as he reads the text and shakes his head. "Or they found another place for him. Fuck." He looks around again and seriously considers bailing on this to go find the kid, but... instead, he sends a quick text. 'I'm going to track him from my location, but I can't go after him right now.' That gets sent to Branton too.

Bryan shifts focus from the house to the kid and there's nothing for a moment, then a 'blip' on radar, so to speak. Coming from the house. A moment later the house shakes as if hit by a huge concussive force from within, shaking some broken glass out of window frames and causing the light in the basement to go out.

Branton draws a metal cylinder from one of his pouches and closes his eyes for just a second in prayer "Mothers of Pegasus' Children, a wayward child needs rescue. Help us." Then Branton's eyes open and he looks to Bryan "I think that's our Cue. Shall we?"

"Fuck. Kid's in there." But yeah, he's moving already, pushing open the door and heading out. "Pegs... you.. you heard him. Help us out here." Bryan shudders as he walks, stalks, trying.. kinda.. to be sneaky, but also calling upon his own ancestors for a little ooomph

With that huge, shuddering impact from the bowels of the decayed two-story home, it's easy for the two to get close without any real trouble. The open garage is an easy entrance, though the front door might be taken, or any of the broken windows on the first floor.

For a moment, there's silence from the house, and Branton can feel a desperate -grasping- at him in an eldritch manner. Familiar and alien, but very, very desperate and sort of... unpleasant. Not painful, more like holding hands with someone that has sweaty, cold palms and grips too tightly.

The link forms, and there's a flash of heat and light from the basement.

Branton feels a reaching out for help in his mind, he doesn't know this power personally but he recognizes it from his studies as he sneaks behind Bryan >If you have the gift to resist fire I suggest you bring it on line. Danny's reached out for help and I'm lending him strength to fight back. But he's not fire-resistant himself so we need to hurry.< and Now that they're not in public Branton activates the cylinder and it becomes his enchanted Rapier.

Well, shit. >Got it< Turns out that Bryan is SLIGHTLY fire resistant. Master of fire. The first thing a firebug learns once he can do gifts. >Let's go. Is that him in the basement? Tell him to hold on and get out of the way. We're coming. Do THEY know we're coming?< Regardless, he's going for easy. The Garage.

The garage has some clutter - molding old boxes, a few tripping hazards, nothing their light feet can't navigate without too much trouble. The door opens into the ruin of the kitchen. Cabinet doors missing, one hanging by a single, sad hinge. The appliances long gone. Instead there's a big cooler that likely holds supplies. Doors are mostly missing or busted down. The living room is through a far doorway, but the ruckus below has drawn the attention of everyone that is in the house, it seems.

Through a broken door, another brilliant flash of light is followed by flames that lick, briefly, through the gaps in the door, and screams.

Danny finds himself with more raw power than he has ever even dreamed of. Which seems to work to his favor, judging by the screams - except he's one of the people screaming. It's akin to giving a toddler a rocket launcher. There's no real skill with aiming, or control, just *WHOOOSH* and heat and pain.

A burning man scrambles up the stairs of the basement, a scream becoming a howl as the death rage hits and his body reshapes into a massive, bat-eared beast, most of the terrible burns healing.

Chases-the-Wind gives zero fucks. As soon as the guy comes around the corner, Bryan shifts, lunging ahead, stabbing his claws deep into the belly of the burning BSD and rakes upward, taking a good amount of flesh and some intestines with it. It isn't QUITE enough to take him down. Fuckers are tough in a frenzy

Branton is weaving around, almost dancing from side to side behind CtW, looking for an opening with his rapier. And then he looks up and drive the point of his sword up through the soft spot under the spiral's chin. All the way to the brain and wiggles the blade like a swizzle stick.

Given the fire, and the damage he was recovering from, the Spiral probably didn't -really- register the pair until the claws tore into him and the rapier punched up through that triangular soft spot and into his brain. He looks surprised as the life fades and the body sags, reverting to 'just a guy'. Brown hair, neat clothes. Looks a bit like an accountant with a five o'clock shadow.

Below, things get louder, then the link to Branton is abruptly severed. There's three more voice down below, two the growling snarls of the Garou tongue, the third is a woman. "...if he so much as TWITCHES, fucking end him." Whatever quality of life Danny had before is sure to take a sharp downward turn after this.

TO Branton, CtW thinks, >>Find some cover. I'm going to draw them out. Sneak down if you can. I'm going in there.<< Then, in a lot of other voices, he moves around this way and that, stepping so very lightly. >>Kitchen. Get it cleared.<< >>I'm going around back<< >>Mocks-the-Dark, stay here make sure no one bolts<< etc. etc. etc. From here, from there. While ALSO mimicking the sounds of heavy crinos feet on the creeky floor. It won't actually make the floors creak, but maybe the voices will throw them off enough. He waits for the sound of SOMETHING on the stairs and then... BAMF

It's a spacious basement, though only rough-finished. Smooth floors, painted walls. Maybe it was once a place where children played, judging by faded, peeling daisies crudely painted at one end of the area. Oddly, it's beencleaned out, unlike the rest of the house, with some basic bedrolls and camp style gear tucked to one side.

The sounds from above definitely draws the attention of the three, two starting to the stairs while the glabro woman (same as from the SUV at the rest area), stands over the slumped form of the twelve year old kid.

The men, likewise, are the same as from the rest area, the dead one upstairs being a new face - perhaps not a part of the pack, or maybe he was doing something else when they all met up. "How the fuck did those Gaians find us so fast?" The woman growls, looking down at the boy, the other two headed for the stairs, when Bryan drops into the middle of them.

Branton grits his teeth and tiny flickers of white lightning flicker over his skin, the luminesence of the active gift giving him a sheen as he winds up sneaking face first into two spirals so he falls back on snark "Because we really are just better than you."

"Ugly bitch." Clear as crystal, Bryan pops in kind of half-way behind her, opening his massive jaws and taking a huge bite of her head. CHOMP. But god, she tastes bad too, so he spits her out and prepares for round two.

Shock registers on the woman's face as those massive jaws clamp down and break her pretty head open. She's not DEAD, but she drops, convulsing as everything misfires and her body tries to heal some of the horrible damage done, blood pouring from the places the teeth dug in.

The smaller of the two wolves by the stairs starts up and is given pause. Branton doesn't look like much on the surface. Bald, not particularly daunting in size. "Eat shit." Ready to engage the kinfolk, even if he has the high ground.

From his place on the stairs, he has a bird's eye view of the battlefield. The downed woman, the still form of the kid, Bryan's blood soaked fluffiness.

Chases-the-Wind made a promise to that fucking kid and he doesn't plan on going back on it. When the woman stands there looking stupid, Bryan digs his claws into her abdomen and twists his hand, shredding whatever might be in there and then pushes her away. He turns to come face to face with Dude, who slashes at him and Bryan FROWNS and draws back his huge taloned hand to strike

Branton is going damn the torpedos and full speed ahead, which with the white lightning going, is pretty fast. The lame reply to his snark gets a disappointed headshake and then he flicker steps. And shakes some blood off his sword that came from the suddenly wounded Spiral "You're turn."

<<Jesus fucking Christ, Branton. Next time, you fucking go first, you sexy beast.>> Bryan takes another chomp out of the Dude and he goes down and Bryan starts to turn when he sees movement. <<Fucking shit, man.>> His MAIN objective is to stay between the others and the kid.

Branton stood there for the space of a heart beat and let the guy take his shot, trusting his wards and armor to see him through. And when the crinos claws come the layered defenses just tank it and Branton lunges again and the Rapier point impacts the Crinos sternum. And that thick, heavy bone? Shatters. And Branton's sword comes out the guy's back, blood spraying. "Its a hell of a stress test for the new load out. Working well yeah?"

<<We're hitting the Mercy circle later. Me and you, buddy.>> Bryan waits for the guy to start pushing up to his feet and before the thing can even snarl, he lunges again, ripping his throat wide open and then kicking him in the dick just for good measure, spinning around to see... what's next.

Blood is everywhere. The two warforms revert to their human shapes,the woman with the crushed skull and ruined innards unrecognizable when she shrinks back down.

It seems quiet enough in the wake of the frenzied fighting. The kid is breathing, just a good sized bump on the side of his head to go with some nasty burns from playing with powers he doesn't know how to control.

Chases-the-Wind turns a full 360, then slips into glabro. He reaches out and with the tenderst touch, runs his fingers over the little boy's cheek, like a parent might. "Get you back home, kid," he murmurs, healing him up. <<Let's get him out of here. You want to finish burning this place down, B?>>

Branton nods at Bryan and stacks the bodies, his enhanced strength making the work easy as he chats "Sure thing. I should make some training weapons with a Mercy enchantment. As it is the circle only works for natural weapons. Though we could do that if you want." A moment's pause "Is he okay?"

The burns and bruises fade. Really, he looks better than he did when they first met him. The nicer clothes are ruined, of course, but he's a little less exhausted seeming, better color to his skin - a couple nights in a soft bed with proper meals and maybe some extra snacks has done him good.

Healed, Danny opens his eyes, startling, then relaxing. The stink of death and blood is thick in the air, but the faces - bloodied as they are - are familiar and friendly. Relief evident. "Hey."

"Yeah, he's okay. Banged up. I'll meet you outside. You good? Blow this shit up real good." When Danny wakes up, Bryan smiles, holding him easily. "Hey kiddo. Sorry about that. We're going to get you back home, okay? You alright? Close your eyes for a second. I don't want you puking all over me when we bridge. You did good."

Branton nods at Danny and smiles before adding to Bryan "I'll be along in just a second. I'm going to get the other body and add it to the pile down here. Make sure they're powder before I let the flames spread and then its all going to go up real quick. I'll probably just appear in the driver's seat."

Danny nods, closing his eyes real tight - having JUST bridged in a few moments before, bridging again warrants listening to his friend's advice. "I was looking for a ball. Lulu kicked it really far and it went in some bushes, and I went to go find it."

"All good, bro. We gotcha." Bryan will be having WORDS with the cartakers at Gaia's Hope. But that's later. For now, he just bridges out and into the van, setting Danny down carefully and then taking his seat