2023.7.14: Killin' On the Dock of the Bay
| 07.14.23 Killin' On the Dock of the Bay | |
|---|---|
| A hunt at the Harbor uncovers a hidden foe. | |
| IC Date | 07.14.23 |
| IC Time | Night |
| Players | Abril, Kaz, Memo, Irsa (ST), Mercy, Reno, Stephen |
| Location | Abandoned Fuel Dock, Prospect Harbor, Harbor District ; Sept of the Enduring Spirit |
| Spheres | Garou |
Blue: Irsa/ST
Red: OOC ST Notes
Old Fuel Dock -- Prospect Harbor, Harbor District:
A narrow, decaying pier leads out to a old fuel dock a hundred feet from shore. A small, dilapidated warehouse and a service hut with a rusting sign reading, 'Food, Beer, Ice and Bait here!' cling to the property. Rusted fuel pumps once meant to fuel smaller pleasure craft and charter fishing boats can be seen along the far side. A standing fuel tank has fallen prey to salt and time, so heavily rusted and twisted it will never hold fuel again. Several abandoned boats crowd the berths near the service hut, partially sunk and rotting in their watery graves.
The waters around the fuel dock are dark and murky, nearly black with a disturbing oil sheen. Visibility is poor here: only a few harbor lamps remain, guttering and crackling like a slowly-dying chorus.
Irsa meets the group at Dead Mall and leads the way to their target. The Harbor District is not a pretty place, and it's even worse at night. The Bone Gnawer sticks to the shadows, steering clear of humans and the more populated areas. It takes a good twenty minutes of travel on foot to reach their target: Prospect Harbor. The area is abandoned, this portion of the harbor hasn't been used in decades. Irsa stops near the corner of a warehouse and nods at their target, an old fuel dock. "There ya go. That's th' hunting spot for your quarry tonight. I'd advise ya to stay outta the Umbra for this, Cliath-types. Rest of us are gonna be watchin' the perimeter, keeping an eye out for humans. They don't often come here, but better safe than sorry. And, we got some presents for ya. Who wants to pass theirs out first?"
Stephen sniffs the air a bit when they get closed to the derelict docks, wrinkling his nose a bit, but otherwise stays silent and just listens to the instructions Irsa gives the younger ones. When Irsa mentions presents, the Wendigo lightly shakes his head in the negative, "The ones I have will not be appropriate to this, especially if we are still going to help Reno with his family later on. I will, however, stick to the perimeter to make sure nothing interferes or gets nosy."
Memo does his best to keep up at the pace set by the Bone Gnawer. Still adjusting to coastal living the Galliard wrinkles his noise at the sour smell of harbor water and deterioating buildings. His eyes narrow as he surveys his surrounds. Once he has finished scanning he looks to the other Cliath, giving his tribemates present a reassuring nod before looking to his Elders assembled to witness the exercise.
Setting his hat low on his brow, Reno comes up from where he parked the bike. He nods to Irsa and then reaches into his pocket. He pulls out two red jelly beans. He holds one out to each of Memo and Abril. "These are Flames of Ra talens." He explains. "Chew them and then breath fire." Simple enough explaination. That done, he turns to head to his watchout spot. "I don't expect any trouble in my area."
Abril has no problems with sticking to shadows as the group traverses through the city, though the lupus does look a little uneasy as they reach the actual hunting spot, the abandoned boats and service hut. "Keep Veil, find prey. What is we hunting for again?" The red jelly bean from Reno is accepted with a grateful little bow. "One breath or fire for time?"
Iris does her best not to breathe, but it's sadly not a skill she's mastered just yet. But she does wear shoes for once, so that's something. "Well, you're not *likely* to need it, but you never know. Drowning sucks even if it does build character, so here's some scuba talens in the off chance that becomes a worry. They hold the gift 'spirit of the fish'." She offers out some little clay fishes to the Cliaths.
Irsa hands out two items to each Cliath: two teeny-tiny budles of herbs, and a friendship bracelet. She holds up an extra bag. "These are healing talens. Bracelets will give ya Tagalong, in case you need to invoke Fog's Gift of cover. Only one of ya can call on that, but these will keep ya'll from losing your shit an' running when Fog's called. Now, who wants this extra bag?"
Stephen watches the other prizes being given out and nods to himself, taking a step back to shouldercheck Reno lightly, ready to fade back to a respectful observation distance, himself.
Memo nods approvingly at Abril's words looking back to the ranking Garou before she asks her question, if he knows it himself he has a mean poker face. As the ranking Garou offer magic he accepts with a dip of his head, "Thank you Moves like Quicksilver-rhya, Thank you Hammer-Tooth-rhya." the keen eyed might see some confusion muddling the Galliard's face when he accepts the jelly bean from Reno. He takes a moment to look between the lupus before responding to Irsa, "If we are hunting I nominate the Ahroun."
Kaz has no trouble sticking to the shadows or keeping up as they make their way to the target. He sniffs the air several times as they reach their destination. His eyes sweep over the harbor searching for enemies and/or prey. He accepts the gifts from his elders with a respectful nod.
Irsa nods up at the warehouse rooftop. "We'll be posted up there. Good huntin', don't die!" she says cheerfully. She climbs up the side of the building as nimbly as a squirrel.
Mercy double checks with Irsa in one of those quick and wordless 'you want me over there?' gestures before peeling away from the group a bit with a 'good luck!' thumbs up on her way to take a position somewhere close by and meld in with the shadows. Literally, she becomes a shadow herself and just sorta disappears into a patch of blackness.
Abril nods her agreement with Memo. Tools for hunting to the Ahroun. "Keep to shadows, know before charge? I can sniff." A tap to her own nose and eyes. The philodox is on alert! And looks to her tribemates for cues they're ready to go.
Memo clears his throat, "It is an honor to stand beside you both tonight, may we bring Glory to our tribe and shed no blood on failure's dagger.". He looks to Abril, clerly restraining himself from responding, instead looking to Kaz to see if the Ahroun will take charge now that they are set to their task.
Finding the darkest place he can, Reno climbs into a perch that most shouldn't be able to handle. He balances on a cable above. Crouching, he goes motionless and just watches.
Throatcrusher looks to his tribemates and nods. He lets out a grunt as he shifts into Hispo form. >>Stick to shadows. Find enemies and kill.<<
"Freakin' Shadow Fury," Irsa mutters at her mentor. She's crouched down near the rooftop edge, peeking over it. Her familiar is nowhere in sight, likely serving as her eyes elsewhere.
The pier is truly in a wretched state. Gaping holes where boards have rotted and splintered away are everywhere, and the whole area smells foul. The footing is slick and treacherous from rot and scummy water. Will it claim the first victim tonight?
Stephen watches for a moment to register where Reno and Irsa have headed off, before turning and quietly lumbering up to the roof of one of the abandoned boat houses, choosing to flatten himself out as a wolf so he can keep those radar ears swiveled forward while still watching for trouble.
Memo looks to Kaz with a nod, flanking the lupus in his birth form. Perhaps it's a lack of sealegs, maybe Guillermo brought the wrong shoes but he slips and scoots forward a few feet, steadying himself at an undignified slapping of his hands on the nearest wall. Some whispering cursing in spanish suggests he is still on his feet even if just barely. With that flicker of Rage at his failure to simply MOVE he channels it back into himself melting into his wolf skin.
For the time being, Abril sticks to two legs as she creeps through the shadows of the dock, skillfully dodging around rotten spots or hopelessly splintered boards as easily as a kid might play hopscotch. She winces as Kaz slips on the boards, before she follows the cue of the guys and slips on into her own birth form, another dark wolf on the prowl.
Throatcrusher picks his way across the broken and slippery area methodically and with purpose. He stops only to turn and look when his tribemate stumbles but seeing they don't need any help continues on.
No one's died, and nothing seems to have heard the skidding, so all good! At least for now. The air feels slightly chill and cloying, with an oppressive air.
Memo scrambles despite the extra legs for stability, there is an almost cartoonish air to the Homid trying to keep his footing as all four paws circle and his tail flicks wildly. The Galliard huffs and moans in a low tone startled by his on inability to navigate the terrain.
With all the commotion, Reno sits up a little bit and takes a more keen eye on the goings on.
In her own birth form, Strikes-Twice slowly and carefully demonstrates the path she had just taken, turning over her shoulder to watch and see if the galliard can make it. Third time is the charm after all.
Throatcrusher stifles a grunt as his assessment on Memo needing help was wrong. Hepads to a shadow to stand watch as Strikes-Twice moves to assist their tribemate.
The dock is seriously treacherous. Salt water has rotted the wood, and slicked the area with a slimy sheen. It'd be a challenge for most to cross, and Irsa winces a bit as Memo skids again. "He don't give up, good for him," she mutters to the others.
Memo softly growls between clenched teeth as he follows the Half-Moon's direction. Clearly the Galliard is frustrated and by his posture you are sure if he could properly share more explectives in this form he would. His shoulders relax a little as he just barely manages to make his way.
Leave it to humans to make man-things that just turn into hazards as time passes. The hunters eventually make their way out across the pier and approach the fuel dock itself. They're passing the abandoned boats now, the rotting craft rolling softly and bumping against their berths. Faint splashes sound as water displaces, and a faint grinding and grating sound can be heard.
Memo grips the talens he isn't wearing delicately in his teeth. There is a curious warning growl as his eyeline traces something he apparently thinks he sees in the water. Looking to the other lupus he thumps his tail in anticipation.
Strikes-Twice watches carefully perhaps even holding her breath as Memo follows after her but this time he does indeed cross on the power of his own four feet. She gives a subtle little nudge of her shoulder to his as he catches up. He did it. They knew he would. But no more celebration than that brief gesture as she turns her attention to the Ahroun and the hut ahead. Her ears twitch at the sound of those splashes and lets out a hushed warning to her tribemates. << Danger, water. Bad smell bug thing. >> And she does also bite a bit harder on that little fish token, activating it.
Throatcrusher pads forward and pauses as he steps in something. He picks his paw up and sniffs it and quickly sticks his tongue out as he dry heaves for a moment. He shakes his paw off not noticing Memo's thumping tail at first but goes still at Strikes-Twice's warning.
No further sightings or sounds can be heard at the moment. The dock is empty of obvious life when the group reaches it. There's a thin layer of mist in the air, not enough to oscure anyone's version, but more than enough to set teeth on edge. The service hut's door is wide open, clogged with the splintered, rotting remains of the door. The warehouse door is chained shut, but a good dose of brawn could easily pop that open. The fuel pumps will never work again. The fuel tank is slowly dripping a nasty, oily fluid. There are also holes in both building roofs, worn with time or mishap.
Mercy claps soundlessly for Memo's eventual success while watching, and just kinda glancing around for incidental traffic and stuff. She's too insubstantial to actually make sound and probably no one could see her hands moving anyways, but still! It's the celebratory thought that counts!
Memo hunkers low, creeping along in the shadows behind his impromptu pack. There is a moment where he is so caught up in his success in stealth so much that he loses track of the other two Garou, so successful was there own stealth that he lets out a soft, surprised yelp. Embarrassed, he scoots back half a step waiting for the Ahroun to direct their approach.
Shadow-wolf, shadow-wolf. Doing what shadow wolves do. In this case, Strikes-Twice is creeping along in the company of her other Lords. She waits behind the bulk of the Ahroun to check the door force, but she's not that far behind. Sniffing still at the air and all those gross human dock smells.
Throatcrusher grunts as the attack from the water never comes. >>We kill later if we have time<< He slinks into the shadows easily and makes his way to the hut and it's open door. He tosses a glance at the chained door with the gnawing thought that this easier door was some kind of trap gnawing at him. He doesn't look back as he expects his pack to be there for him if needed.
Reno smiles a bit as the cliaths are doing something good. He seems to be proud of them and their success so far. Not that anyone can see his smile right now.
Irsa has produced popcorn from her pack, the fiend. She shakes the bag softly, offering it around to the other watchers.
The door blockage is easily cleared by Kaz, the remants shoved aside. It's pretty dark in here, but just there's enough dim light to make out rough shapes here. An ice machine, some bait coolers, and a beverage fridge are the only furniture left inside. A small counter bisects the room. And a very, very faint rustling sound can be heard behind it, like paper being shuffled around.
Memo hazards scenting the air, immediately twisting his head as he tries to gauge the data drawn in from his wolf nose. He scoots forward as close as he can to the Philadox without threatening their stability. "Wyrm here?" he asks in that near silent body language wolves rely on. The Galliard watches his interim Alpha to see if they press inside for their quarry.
Everyone hears the same sound: a low, rustling whirring sound, that moves in fits and starts. Something's moving back there, on raspy possibly Wyrmy-feet, who knows?
Throatcrusher eyes widen as he hears Memo utter the name of their enemy. He pads slowly and now eagerly into the room low and puts his large fore paws onto the counter to raise up slowly and look at what is behind it.
Memo brings up up the rear without crowded the lupus. He looks behind to make sure nothing threatens the flank he is obstenibly guarding. He repeats his question from earlier, a clipped chuff from his chest barely a noise to anyone but a wolf, "Wyrm?". As their Alpha breaches the entrance he waits for Strikes-Twice before following suite.
While the Ahroun may be looking over the counter, Strikes-Twice sneaks over to the side. Still not quite sure what it is, but definitely some feet-y sounds of something back there.
The Ahroun is the first Garou lucky to see the creature, with Strikes-Twice and Memo not far behind. It's a large, winged insectoid about the length of a dog, with a dead-black carapace and glowing, sickly-yellow eyes. The wings on its back whir and buzz idly as it chews on the base of the counter, stuffing wood pulp into its barbled mandibles, using the stinger on its abdomen almost like a fork. It's either completely unaware or uncaring of the Garou's intrusion here.
Memo narrows his eyes calling on his gifts from Grandfather Thunder seeking weakness, chinks in the armor. His eyes widen in dread once his insight reports that this creature is in fact, flawless. He closes his eyes a moment to regain his composure, choosing to keep this fact to himself and not worry his pack.
Throatcrusher's fangs strike out less than a heartbeat after he sees the bug creature. His fangs sink through it's carapace and he pulls the thing up over the counter and shakes his head viciously. A large piece of it tears free and the creature is hurled to the floor for his packmates to finish off.
The unnatural insectoid's head jerks upwards as Kaz strikes. It's a shame the onlookers don't see what happens next, because SURELY it's completely bad-ass.
Memo holds his position behind the wolfborn. It is clear battle waits for them in this rotting room, with this perfect monster and so Whispers Best Forgotten looks inside. Looks to the line of Ancestors that fought and died to bring him here today, who whisper still to guide their heir. "Bite of the Tempest-rhya, hear me. Do not let my inexperience endanger my Fostern, guide my claws and let us both taste Glory tonight.". The Galliard looks back up, his eyes reflecting battle insight not entirely his own. Watching the lupus tear it apart in seconds he lets out a celebratory bark, "Glory to our wolf born Fostern, Ancestor. Witness their ferocity and let our enemies tremble!".
True enough to her deed name, Strikes-Twice is indeed the second to strike. Not as all out powerful as the Ahroun's hispo jaws, but methodical and precise. She chomps on down until she's sure nothing of the bug-creature will be moving again. << Another one of these was in water. Don't know smell. >>
Mercy sends String to go and look in on things for her, since she cant see through walls and stuff. That might only be partially successful, more than likely her Familiar will get distracted by a moth and wander off or something.
The taste of that dead insectoid is seriously nasty: a lingering, cloying acidic mixture of overpowering chemicals and rot. Worse still is the wet 'crunch' as its abdoment explodes, spraying everyone with a thick, vicous substance that clings to their fur. The stench is absolutely horrible, more than enough to mess with Strikes-Twice sense of smell. A faint, whirring buzz can faintly be heard from the dock.
Throatcrusher crushes the remaining piece of the creature in his jaws. He barely manages to restrain himself from letting out a howl of victory. The creatures viscera dripping from his fangs he looks to his hunting partners. >>Good kill<< He turns to the door outside. >>Now kill others.<<
Memo looks to the Half-Moon, "Another one of these abominations exists below? Surely this is the enemy. Strikes-Twice-yuf what does the law tell us to do?". His ears flick and he growls in agreement with his Alpha. Without the care of stealth he creeps back outside to see if he can spot the other monster below the inky black of nighttime water.
<< Combat the Wyrm wherever it Dwells. >> Strikes-Twice answers without hesitation. << One swims in water, we will find. It didn't hear us. But also other building. Check that. Bugs could be guards for bigger threat. >>
Irsa munches away on her popcorn, having her magnificent Rat familiar slink in to spy as well. It might even be chilling with String, who knows? She winces as the insectoid is crushed. "Oooh, that's gotta hurt," she mutters.
The hunters are not alone. More insectoids are appearing on the scene, likely drawn by the stench of their companion's death. One is clinging to the remains of the tank, drinking the droplets falling from the decaying valve. Two more have pushed out of a hole in the warehouse roof and are flying towardfs the group. Another launches itself from the fuel pump area. Let there be battle.
Throatcrusher looks out side and turns to the others. >>Enemy flies. Let them come to us and kill in here.<<
The insectoids are fighting mad, eyes burning and acrid bile dripping from their stingers. Two dart inside and attack Kaz. One manages to clamp down on his fur with its mandibles and starts stinging him in a frenzy. The two outside hover in place and begin to beat their wings in a hypnotic, lulling buzz that beats on Memo and Strikes-Twice's skulls. Memo manages to shake the effect off, but the philodox is not so lucky.
Memo bares his teeth at the gathering swarm, barking aggressively to funnel them to a position in the Shadow Lord's advantage. The droning threatens to lull the Galliard into slumber but his resolve and the Inspiration evoked by his Alpha helps him shrug the fell power away. As the bugs descend on the Ahroun, Whispers Best Forgotten calls on his sacred fury to lash at the monsters but even with the guidence of a legendary Ahroun from his past he cannot find purchase to pierce their carapace. As he scrambles off them and tries to regroup he lets out a whine seeing Strike-Twice lying on the ground, a victim of the creature's spell.
At first, Strikes-Twice was holding back, waiting for the Ahroun to cleave a warpath through the bugs to polish up. But the beats of the bugs gets into her head and the philodox begins to nod off.
Throatcrusher dives at the first bug lured in my Memo. His bulk crashes into the bug and his fangs again sink past carapace into the meat beneath. He shakes his head again and smashes the bug off of a nearby wall to fall to the floor. He doesn't have time to finish it off though as another bug latches on and starts trying to sting him. He lets out a howl of frustration and rolls onto the ground and gets into a better position. Now over the bug be bites into its innards and tears out some.
The insectoids are tenacious and vicious, the ones inside latching onto Kaz and doing their level best to straight-up murder a wolf. The meet their untimely ends, while the ones outside target Strikes-Twice, dive-bombing the philodox but failing to hurt her. One tries to Lull Throatcrusher to sleep with its droning song, but quickly regrets that move.
Irsa has finished her popcorn, and whistles in admiration. "They're moppin' up nicely in there."
Forget that momentary nap. Because now Strikes-Twice is awake and she's showing what lupus teeth can really do as she gets a pretty good hit onto one of those pesky divebombers.
Memo looks around the hectic combat as wasps flail with dying stingers, drone or descend on the pack. He barks as the Ahroun fells another Wyrm thing, readying himself to pounce once a flyer dives. His teeth scrap across the carapace, jaws close but the angle prevents him from piercing it's exterior. As he slips away, bloodless he barks angrily at the foe who evaded his wrath. An encouraging staccatto follows as bug corpses land around his pack mates.
Throatcrusher's fangs again dive into the innards of the thing latched on to him. Several crunching sounds follow as he tears several important parts out of the bug. He looks over as the droning tries to force him to sleep. He growls and charges through the door taking it off its hinges as he dives at the bug. He takes it to the ground and bites onto its head and places his forepaws and the bugs body. A quick pull and the things head comes off with a sickening pop. A pop that's followed by a crunch as his jaws crush the decapitated head. >>Now sleep forever<< He turns to the last bug with murder in his eyes, ecstatic to be doing Mother Gaia's work.
The insects go down one after another, torn apart by the angry Shadow Lords. Grandfather Thunder will be pleased with their work this night. The lone survivor tries to flee once its nestmates are killed, but it does not escape the wrath of Thunder's Chosen.
Throatcrusher watches as the last one falls and is pinned. He pads up to it menacingly. Before latching onto it with his fangs he looks to the others. >>Pull when I do. For Grandfather Thunder.<<
Memo looks genuinely surprised the last enemy survived the approach of the Ahroun but he was not unprepared. As the desperate creature tries to fly away he bounds up and wraps his jaws around the base of it's wings sending both of them tumbling back to the loving embrace of Mother Gaia. Aware of his combat prowess he does what he can to hep the better fighters, he holds on refusing to allow the Wyrmspawn to escape from it's fate. The Galliard braces at his Alpha's command, his haunches tensing ready to do his part and tear the bug to pieces.
On her own, Strikes-Twice was able to glance her fangs off the resiliently stubborn bug-creature. But as Memo holds and Kaz suggests they all grab a part and pull, she nods and goes for one of those dang wings.
The insectoid goes mad when Memo grapples it, going into a frenzy of stinging and biting, buzzing and screeching like a possessed sawmill. The racket is incredible, even the watchers up on the warehouse roof can hear the thing. It lets out a final shriek of agony as it's pulled apart, sending viscera and goop spraying everywhere. It reeks, and clings to the Garou like glue. Ick.
Memo shakes violently for all the good it will do to loose the ichor from his fur. "What now?" he growls. There is an angry flick of his tail as he looks around. "I would not say no to fire.".
Throatcrusher lets out a victory howl to his ancestors and to Gaia after the last bug is pulled apart.
<< First we look. >> Strikes-Twice says once she's wiped at least some of the gross bug chemicals out of her mouth where she'd been holding it until it popped like the worst pinata. << They're dead, but could be more. Or something that put them here. Drew them here. See what there's to see, then possible fire. >> There's a definite distaste as she looks about the rotting building.
Checking out the fuel tank, there's a small amount of fuel remaining, but only enough for a few drops. it'll probably be gone in a week, tops. in the warhouse, you find a dozed rusting barrels of oil. Some have rusted through and spilled their contents, more have been punctured. They're marked with the Endron International logo. There's a nest in here as well, made from what looks like wood pulp and rusted metal. Several larvae can be seen inside, waiting to hatch.
Memo nips at the Ahroun lupus when he starts to howl, "No howl! Scab. Veil.". And moves to sniff around hoping his Homid eyes in wolfskin will find something. When they find the larvae he chuffs, "Fire.".
Strikes-Twice nods approvingly as the Galliard keeps the wolf-noises in check and Veil safe with that friendly reminder to the other lupus. And also signals her agreement with the Fire for Larvae. << Fuel stores, Fire. It even makes sense. >>
Throatcrusher chuffs in annoyance but grunts in acceptance. Looking about the disgusting place he grunts again at the sight of the larva. >>Burn. Cleanse.<<
Memo fluidly returns to his birth form, flicking his arm annoyed at the still clinging goop. He mutters under his breath, "Puto madre." before looking to his pack. "I'll prepare the fire. You two go and prepare the Ritual.". He looks to the Ahroun for acceptance, "Is that ok?".
Irsa cracks open a beer, pulled from a super-secret compartment in her pack. The packrat inside it is helpful that way. She squints as she watches the Shadow Lords. "Looks like they're wrappin' up. Wanna get a Cleansing ready for 'em when they're outta there?" she asks the other watchers. This is better than pro wrestling or even luchadores.
Reno smiles a bit and shifts from his perch. He nods and seems to be making ready. "Let's see how they finish this." He finally says. He's got his eyes on the cliath's too.
Throatcrusher looks around and nods to Memo in acceptance of this plan. He turns and leaves the building content that the larva will soon be purged from the world.
Throatcrusher shifts into his natural form now that the danger has passed. >>What need for ritual?<< He asks Strikes-Twice.
<< Need clean water for cleansing. Bet the Crescents have some. Pure water and tree branch. >> Strikes-Twice points out a notable lack of supplies for the said rite. But content the fire is being built, larvae being destroyed she shifts back to her homid form before going to find the older Garou that had been watching, trying to wipe as much of that residual bug guts off her as she can but really it just gets smeared.
Memo kicks some of spare wood into more sizeable chunks, building a trail to lead to fuel. He graps anything else he can scrounge, paper and whatnot before standing clear with the crimson jelly bean in his hand. He pauses for a moment staring at the gelatin treat holding the fire spirit. After a brief prayer to Gaia he gulps the thing down, concentrates his spiritual essence and exhales a gout of flame. He doesn't scramble away, likely so surprised he managed to get it work waiting a moment to make sure everything catches before rejoining his pack outside.
Irsa pulls on a hoodie and tugs the hood up over her head, it's gotten chilly out here. She takes a sip of her beer and instantly swells up to Glabro form, hunkering down and drinking as she waits for the Cliaths to tend to business.
And what a glorious business it is: that fire catches easily thanks to Memo's handy work. It doesn't take long for the entire warehouse to go up in flames, spreading to engulf everything on the docks. There'll be no insectoid bodies for any humans to find, the inferno will burn everything to ash and turn rusting metal into piles of slag.
Mercy becomes ever so slightly visible as her hiding shadows take on some flickers of light from the burning warehouse. The shadow-hippy has a good look around to see whether there's anyone in view that's going to start whippin out their cell phone or something, while she drifts her insubstantial ass over closer to Irsa.
Throatcrusher turns and watches as the flames start in the building. He waits for Memo to come out and after watching the flames for a few moments more he says, >>Good work. Wyrm killed. Just cleanse and then feast.<<
Even with that blaze going, there's no immediate response from the humans. This section of the harbor is almost fully abandoned, probably why these insectoids went undetected for so long. That won't be the case forever, but the group has enough time to wrap up any remaining business if they're quick.
Irsa polishes off her beer and calls down to the hunters from the roof she's perched on. "Real, real nice work. Any of ya even get hurt? Those fuckin' things were bound and determined t' kill ya'll."
Strikes-Twice gives a shake of her head towards Irsa. "They tried, but we shook them off any time." And then a look to the Ahroun-in-lupus and to the fire. "We should get gone. Fire burning brings people soon or later?" And wave to the bug guts on her. "Get clean and then get //cleansed//."
With a nod to what they're saying, Reno reminds, "The kinfolk house has cleansing showers." He remind, in case someone might have forgotten.
Mercy regains physical form! She wasn't trying to ignore Irsa's earlier question about cleansing, she just didn't have vocal cords at the time. That's my excuse for why I missed that pose, and I stand by it. "You wanna take them to the Kinfolk house? There's Cleansing Rite Showers there." she says at about the same time as Reno, pointing at him like 'jinx!' with a grin. I can stay behind and cleanse this spot, if you want."
Primal Figure wrinkles her nose as the bug-gut stink assails her. You know you smell bad when even a Bone Gnawer is repulsed by your presence. "Dead Mall's close, but it might be safer t' hit the Kinfolk House," she adds, echoing Reno and Mercy's words. "They've got showers there that'll remove any taint off your hides. Just mind your manners, don't wolf out, and don't lose your cool. Th' Denfather will pull your guts out, and no one wants that." She nearly jumps out of her skin when Mercy reappearss. "Uh, yeah, that'd rock. I'll give ya hand with that," she offers the Elder.
Memo nods in agreement with the Philadox but does not take his eyes off the blaze. His arms crossed over his chest it looks like he is waiting for something to burst from the wreckage, the flickering blaze reflecting in his eyes. He finally turns as the ranking Garou coverage, "Would it not be appropriate for Strikes-Twice-yuf to finish the cleansing?". He looks to the Half Moon, "You know the right yes?". His shoulders slump, relenting to the repeated instructions to regroup at the kin house.
A smile and Reno points back at Mercy and bows his head. He looks back to the Lords and tilts his head a bit. "It is a large area to cover." He tells them. "You found the taint, dealt with the issue." He looks to Mercy and Irsa, "Perhaps let the more experienced Garou finish this off and we get you back to be cleansed yourselves and celebrate your victory."
"I know it, but hard to Cleanse when I first need to be cleansed myself," Abril explains to Memo. "Cooperation is strength of wolves. We do more when we work together. Others can cleanse here, while we get ourselves cleansed. I know way to kinfolk house."
"She can, for sure," Irsa replies to Memo. "We're lookin' for areas here to Cleanse, though mind ya there's a lotta space to cover. If you wanna do Cleansing on yourselves, go for it. I'd still go for th' showers after, just for the soap alone. They make that stuff by hand, it's amazin'. That though, I leave for ya'll to decide." She looks between the Shadow Lords, this is their kill and their decision to make.
Memo bows his head to his one time pack mate, "As you say.". He looks to Strikes-Twice, moving closer in support of whatever his once pack mate decides. "I think this was an auspicious union." looking to Irsa, "I thank you for the opportunity Hammer Tooth-rhya.".
Kaz turns to look at the flames and then down to his stained hands and body. He spits out some bug goo before turning back to the elders. "I leave the rest to you and our other elders Hammer-tooth-rhya." He bows to them all. "Thank you for your trust in us to handle this."
(ST Note: Behold, the Shadow Lord Cliaths emerged victorious from their hunt! Post-op chat followed at the Kinfolk House, before people departed for RL sleep.)
