View source for 2019.06.21: The Great Hunt Pack 2

{{Infobox Log
|name      = The Great Hunt  - Pack 2
|summary   = Bane-breaker and Hushed Blaze sends forth the Sept's Hunters at Summer Solstice.
|players   = [[Ratsputin]], [[Shame-of-Shadows]], [[Magnus]], [[Calvin]], [[Stephen]], [[Skully]], [[Lleutrim]], [[Brooke]] as ST
|location  = Forest Fianna Pub, Shallow Canyon
|spheres   = Gaian Garou
}}


[[Category:Ratsputin]][[Category:Lleutrim]][[Category:Skully]][[Category:Magnus]][[Category:Shame-of-Shadows]][[Category:Calvin]][[Category:Stephen]][[Category:Logs]][[Category:Gaian]][[Category:Garou]]



{{tab}}THE GREAT HUNT

{{tab}}Out along the Highway, along the edge of the Forest, lays an old looking building that has been turned into a Pub. Parking lot is covered in gravel, with some pickup trucks parked, and motorcycles. Neon signs hang on the front walls on either side of the door for various beer companies.

{{tab}}Inside is your typical pub with tables and chairs, and a long bar with stools. It smells of liquor, and is well loved.

{{tab}}Out the back is a picnic area, and further back is a more ceremonial/party ground. A big bonfire pit is filled and burning, as every Garou around has come for the ceremony and ensuing hunt. Most are dressed for it, weapons at the ready, and Fianna already covered in woad drawings. Chanting began early on as Hushed Blaze and Bane-Breaker began the rite, and stories of bravery have been told. Bane-Breaker has taken a bowl around to collect blood from all of those participating.

{{tab}}They all wait for the dawn to receive the signal from Gaia for the target, and get the go.

{{tab}}Remember - this is serious. Only your life on the line. May the odds be ever in your favor. GOOD LUCK!






The Ragabash of the Baldur's Blade, is standing here dressed in all black, jeans and t-shirt and a long duster with a black bowler hat pulled down low ever his ears. He is drinking coffee waiting, his eyes closed trying to focus, this would be his first time for great hunt at this new sept. He wishes to honor it to do well by his pack, the sept, and for himself. The boy is ready, standing there as he waits for the others with a wide smile. Excited now bouncing on the heels of his combat boots and getting himself in the right mind set. Ratsputin is ready as he waits for the other members of his pack now with a wide boyish smile.


Stephen probably arrived with Rats and/or Magnus, with only the things on him he didn't care if he lost in a quick change - which is really just jeans, t-shirt, and battered sneakers, though the Ragabash seems to have all of the visible excitement, as the lupus is craning his head around to take in the others getting ready to follow the signs, while offering a respectful bow of his head to the other two faces he does know well enough to greet, Lleu and Skully. For the moment, the Theurge just stays silent and listens.


Calvin had spent time running her from where had been dropped off. Casual clothes, comfortable and most likely dedicated. The theurge is antsy as he waits for sunrise, having at least introduced himself to those who are around. Who he will probably be running with. Running soon, as eyes glance towards slowly lightening horizon and feet and shoes become paws.


Battle Singer arrives with Shame of Shadows, himself in lupus. His ruddy tinted grey pelt is much scarred from many fights since his First Change about a year ago including a diagonal scar across his face, yet his eyes are as icy grey as usual. The Galliard trots along and paces himself to the metis Cliath's speed as the Garou of the Sept gather. Battle Singer looks pleased to see so many friends here, taking his time to greet them in wolf fashion.


Skully has been here for a while, and is standing massive and implacable as the others arrive. All seven-foot-goddamn of him, broad shoulders and stony face, smoking a wooden pipe and quietly preparing himself for the evening. His clothes are scrubby work wear -- faded cargo pants and an old t-shirt that barely fits him -- and his demeanor is patient but serious. He's checking his Fetishes and running through a mental list of all that needs preparing before this Rite begins. "Circle up, all'a you," he rumbles not-unkindly to the forthcoming Garou in his Baloo-like baritone, gesturing around. "Make yourselves ready so's the Rite Mistress ain't gotta chase us all down."


Magnus walks out of the pub completely naked...yup, naked. Don't judge. He walks out looking for the rest of his pack that were able to attend and calls out, "Blessed be Fenris and te Great Hunt of Midsummer's Eve." In case anyone was wondering why exactly he was naked, he casually notes as he heads towards the bonfire that, "Iffn ye would strip naked with me and roll in te dew of te grass, all yer ailments will be wiped away!" And that is what he does...goes a belly-flopping into the grass just outside the fire. Who knows if there is actually dew around, but it doesn't seem like he cares. After he does the roll, he stands up, smacks his chest in a ritual manner, and starts to shift into Crinos. He would immediately start sharpening his claws in preparation for the great hunt. Once those claws were flashing off the bonfire light all nice and sparkly-like, he would head towards his pack, ready to go.

Magnus transforms into a nine-foot-tall grey murdering machine with red battle paint in the shape of an arrow from the navel to the forehead. DELIRIUM IN EFFECT. (+rules The Delirium).


A slender belt of braided leather holds a couple of pouches around Shame's waist. A compromise to the bundle she often carries in her jaws - she'll need those tonight, with luck. The massive metis moves alongside Battle Singer in her three-point manner, favoring the twisted left hind leg. Covered in layers of scars, her pelt is black, but for where some of the hair has grown back in silvery-white, like lightning crawling across a dark sky. Shredded ears are perked up, at least the parts that CAN perk stand high and proud, the other parts just kind of flop around the way healed, torn tissue does.



{{tab}}As the sun rises, the fire dies down lower. One the first sun beam hits it, a fan of flames rises up higher than it has before.

{{tab}}Hushed Blaze declares, "It is the sign we wait for. Gaia, whom is the target of our Great Hunt!"

{{tab}}Bane-Breaker has been walking around with help from some assistants. Each participant has had a pictogram drawn on their foreheads with the comingled blood. She turns with the others to watch for the sign.


{{tab}}{{tab}}The flames become like a screen for a movie (or if anyone has been to Disneyland and seen the water fan of Fantasmic!). You see a pen on a farm, with a large overgrown pig.. no... a skull pig if you look closer. With what appears to be a tag in his ear. Ugly from what you can tell in the flame picture.

{{tab}}The wind whooshes through around them all suddenly. In your ears you hear the word. "Grrgluck"



{{tab}}The flames die down again, and the bonfire is back to normal.

{{tab}}THE HUNT IS ON. The groups start chanting and each taking off to figure out their plan and put it into action.




Ratsputin starts to move towards the rest of his pack on the way shifting into that hairless dog form, the spots are covering his body as he looks back and forth with a nudging towards Magnus in his war form. His head nodding towards Stephen nothing fancy from the Ragabash yet, it seems he has tricks to be saved for the real hunt, if at all.


Drinks with Spirits is now in wolf form, with an odd adornment of underwear of some sort. Black with graphics upon the back of such things that would require strange questions to explain. They had appeared when he activated a gift. He stands ready to leap and run with this group.


Battle Singer turns his head as Shame of Shadows comes up beside him once more, >> You may wish to change to lupus initially. Run faster, less size and mass easier to get through brush and trees. Better for tracking. I will watch out for you and I shall not abandon you for glory. Are you ready to begin? << Oh aye, the Galliard is keeping tabs on Weathers the Storm and gives his fellow Adren a respectful wolf's nod to his former almost pack mate.


When the signs are given and some direction is given to the hunt, Stephen takes a moment to take on his more comfortable dire timber wolf form, Broken Fang shaking his fur out before giving Magnus and Ratsputin a curious cock of his head and yips at them >> Ugly death pig on farm? << but he seems willing to see where the elder(s) are going to head off first.


Magnus is shmeared with blood on his forehead with the pictogram that marks the hunt. Once Bane-Breaker is done with him, he turns to the fire as it flares and holds his palms outwards, the better to feel the heat with. Sharp eyes seek out Hushed Blaze and then dart back to the Mistress of Rites, eager to understand what she is doing exactly...but the flames grow all magnificent like the aurora and he's lost in them. He snaps out of it with the Grrgluck and snarls, << Boar! >> And then the hunt is on, for Magnus howls into the sky and starts moving, but with a look to ensure his pack is moving with him. He doesn't seem to care about the underbrush or moving too fast as he is also intent on letting the others lead. A flicker of a spirit wolf flashes at Magnus's side as his spirit familiar manifests for a second...urging Magnus and the pack on from the umbra.


Weathers-the-Storm goes down on his knees and then his elbows to allow the glyph to be painted on his forehead, conscious of his massive size and making himself easier to paint. Once that's done, he reaches for another Fetish -- a belt buckle, currently looking like a discoloration in the brindled fur of his abdomen -- and rumbles, << I may be able to find where it is. Battle Singer, I'm gonna ask you to lead some folks here on the ground while I take others through the Umbra, once we get where we're goin'. >>

The goliath Ahroun is taking charge, then. He points at Stephen and then Magnus, saying, << You, and... you. When I step sideways, you step sideways. Everyone else listens to Battle Singer. That's a damn Skull Pig; you listen or you get eaten by a pig. Your call. >>


Shame-of-Shadows dips her huge head to Battle Singer, bones cracking and twisting as she reworks herself to the smaller form. <<Thank you, Battle Singer'rhya.>> she says, brushing against his shoulder and licking the Adren's ear in gratitude. Lighter, smaller, she's still damned near the size of a Hispo wolf in her smallest of shapes. She lets Battle Singer set their pace, sticking close to him as the group begins to split up between worlds, the blood already starting to dry on her fur from the mark of the rite.


Drinks with Spirits has the same mark put upon him by Bane-breaker, and he'll find someone to run with. Battle-singer and Shame of Shadows is close enough and his paws dig into grass beside them. Then he follows along, a cartoon figure face flipping the bird to anyone who decides to be slower than him.


Battle Singer turns his attention back to Skully, not at all surprised and no objection to letting this metis take charge. Banebreaker's mark has been set upon his wolf's forehead, >> I have tried Sense of the Prey - no good. Asking spirits in the umbra may be helpful to locate it. I was about to do so but go ahead, then pass on if you figure out a direction ere we do. Good luck! <<


Magnus was going to run with his pack, but at times like these, when an Ahroun says listen or die, you listen! At least in the umbra, he has his spirit familiar to run alongside. Bloodied-Spirit-Walker responds to the Ahroun with, << Aye Weathers-the-Storm-rhya! >> A quick nod is given to Stephen/Broken Fang and he is ready to step sideways when ordered.


The huge monolith that is Weathers-the-Storm nods to Battle Singer, lip curling back over his teeth. << My fetish failed, also. We can attempt a Questin' Stone, but I am open to alternatives and multiple solutions. >> He looks around, single golden eye moving from wolf to wolf, and says, << Your best ideas. Each of you. >>


Broken Fang stops and lowers his head long enough to accept Banebreaker's mark, then shifts his attention up to Weathers-the-Storm's instructions about following him into the Umbra, chuffing his acceptance of the instructions, before shoulderchecking his much bigger pack mate and antsily shifting on all four paws. When suggestions are asked for, he only echoes, >> I only have Questing Stone to offer as well. <<


"I can attempt a questing stone, Weathers-The-Storm'Rhya. That is my only suggestion." Drinks with Spirits steps forward to make sure his offer is heard. "I know the rite." To be clear.


Magnus continues to move assuming Weathers-the-Storm does too. He calls out when asked for an opinion of how to find the source of the hunt, << I have a small network of Vaettir...eh...spirits here and tee animal spirits tend to like me, so I can always ask them to show us te way. Plus, me spirit wolf familiar may be able to help. >>


Battle Singer chuffs low to Shame of Shadows, "I'll be right back."


<< Make the attempt, >> the gigantic Crinos Ahroun replies to Drinks with Spirits, gesturing aside so that the Garou will follow through with his suggestion. To Magnus, he says, << Ask them, >> engaging him in his suggested task, as well. Delegating. Like you do.


Ratsputin stands there waiting he is a bald hairless wolf form, with his head watching back and forth. He is waiting for the next order, having nothing at say as of now. Very much a fan of speak when you have something useful to say.


{{tab}}Between all the efforts, the spirits Battle Singer finds and speaks with, and Bloodied-Spirit-Walker's spirit wolf, they are all lead out into the forest, deeper away to a shallow canyon. Away from where patrols of the bawn would go. It seems like a normal place up until you see some funny looking stakes with something on them that are at least 50 yards away. (perception + alertness vs 7)

{{tab}}Beyond the stakes there are many trees obscuring what could be a structure. That seems to be your destination, as per the spirits, but they will go no further.


< Something on the stakes. Something like a ball or something. > Ratsputin looks at it and then he speaks softly, as he looks closer trying to tell. His eyes narrowed trying to get a better look and that seems to the end of his info for the moment.


Magnus would offer that his spirit wolf appears to know the way. If the Ahroun chooses to follow the manifested spirit wolf, then Magnus would follow the Ahroun who follows the spirit wolf that wiggles and jiggles and tickles ins...err wrong story. As the group approaches the stakes, Magnus would slow and tilt his large beastly head at it, << Ball?...Could be a head? >> The Get thinks about what he would put onto a stake.


The Biggest Goddamn Wolf takes point up until they reach the part of the canyon where the stakes as visible, at which point he stops and snaps his tail sharply. << Here we part, >> he growls, looking to Battle Singer and huffing quietly before looking to the two wolves he's chosen. << Someone's claimed this place. We gotta figure out who. >>


The huge wolf pads over to Shame-of Shadows and huffs simply, << Yu'll tell us what you see here. >> He then pads over to Stephen and chuffs, << And you'll tell her what we find there. >> That said, he steps across the Gauntlet after tail-flicking his two followers to come right with him.


Broken Fang curls up his nose as his eyes strain in the distance when Rats and Magnus calls the things out, and barks softly >> Heads. Heads on sticks. Not sure what heads of. << He gives Ratsputin a light head butt and looks up at The Huge Damned Wolf and yips his agreement to follow.


Shame-of-Shadows manages to keep up with the group, tripping up once to stop and snuffle a pretty patch of flowers. Having to run hard on three paws to catch back up, she wurfles an apology to Battle-Singer. Size and rank cause the metis' ears to flatten briefly before she dips her muzzle. <<Yes, Weathers-the-Storm'rhya.>> she chuffs quickly, glancing to Battle-Singer and falling in with her nose near his flank - close, but not in the way.


Ratsputin returns the head butt to Broken Fang, and then he is off like a lighting moving with the others. He is trotting along with the others his eyes wide, trying to keep an out for any trouble. That might be brewing in the world ahead or to the wide.
 

The Fianna Galliard has run along with the others once they have called up the help of the spirits of the area to guide them. He runs light and fast in lupus, eyes bright, yet keeping tabs on their less experienced Cliaths. Working together like a pack with their senior Ahroun, Weathers-the-Storm, acting as the group's alpha. As they approach the site up ahead and the spirits will go no further, Battle Singer walks out slightly ahead of the group. He looks and listens intently.

>> The stakes up ahead hold severed heads. Screamers - from the Fianna Rite, I think. Although it looks like they may be disabled? A moment while I use View the Battlefield... << Battle Singer focuses his gift and sends his vision forth to see what he may from a bird's eye view of the ground ahead. >> There are a lot of trees around the farm, blocking some of my view. Pens in front of a building - perhaps farm house or barn. The big pen the pig was in is dead. There are a few other people around. << A quick pause ere he adds low, >> Careful of the veil. Unknown if friend or foe, mortal or supernatural until we are closer. <<


Weathers-the-Storm gets a wolf's version of a nod from Battle Singer, >> Understood. <<


Magnus catches the flick of the tail and steps-sideways with ease. He moves over to his spirit wolf who reappears in the umbra with Magnus and gives the wolf a skritch on the ears. With a whisper, he says, << I would nae ask ye to come further with me for I kin see yer hesitant to come. Stay, guard te others. >> Magnus turns, pained to leave his familiar behind, but he does so.


Drinks with Spirits misses something entirely. By a post? On a post? His muzzle shifts to look towards the post. This wolf will tuck against Shame-Of-Shadows for the current time being. To wait to see where the group leads itself.

 
As soon as Weathers-the-Storm takes his half of the group into the umbra to approach the farmstead from that side of the Gauntlet, Battle Singer looks to Ratsputin, Shame, and Drinks with Spirits, >> How good are you at sneaking, Ragabash? << The Fianna asks Ratsputin, >> Are you good enough to dare putting yourself to the test? << The Galliard then looks to Shame of Shadows and Drinks with Spirits, both Theurges, >> I think the spirits will not help us much past this point but you two think you can verify if the screamer heads are active or out of commission? << Perhaps they can get the spirits to tell them that much.


<< I will put myself at risk for my sept, I will do this for the nation >> Ratsputin nods towards Weathers-the-storm with a nodding of his head. << If that is what you wish Weather-the-Storm-rhya. I can sneak good, and I have a gift to help as well.> He then starts to wait for the next command as he watches the elder. >>


Ratsputin moves forward quickly, low to the ground he is blurry as hell if you did not know better, you would not be able to see him as he creeps forward at a quick speed, as he is moving higher and higher trying to get a better view of it all.<They look off to me. I think we are good.> The howl is quiet speak into the wind in such a way to not give away his position, and then he is looking towards the elder for the next move.


The Umbral side of the battle seems to have been fought long before they arrived, but Weathers-the-Storm's Magic Eyepatch of Captaincy points out where the bad guys really are. << Some lurk by the pens, >> he growls to his erstwhile pack, << But we're going for the one inside. I will exit the Umbra in front of him, and you will both attack him from the back once I do. Pass this along; we fight. >> And with that, the big fucking wolf heads for their goal, planning on opening a can of whoopass on Puce Pus Pete over there.
 

As the Theurges think about how to approach the problem, Battle Singer sort of ... slips away into the scrubby trees in the canyon. One moment he's there and the next he's just -gone-. No sound of movement, no tracks left in the dust, as if he were invisible. Even Ratsputin probably lost track of Battle Singer.

The Galliard slips like a shadow up the canyon closer to the picket line of severed heads. Keeping to what cover he may, Battle Singer stops and stands very still. He sniffs the air for scents, tries to identify what sort of heads they are - human? And how long they have been there. Gathering and staking heads for Eagle's pleasure, the Fianna knows something about rotting heads these days. A careful examination, then he quietly backtracks to return to their two Theurges.

>> All right then. The heads appear to be disabled. Not sure why. If you two feel up to sneaking in, let's move in for a closer look past the stakes. I want to check the pig pen and the barn area - but be careful. I also saw at least two people. Ready? <<


Broken Fang yips an affirmation at Weathers and stops long enough to pass the information back to Shame >> Big one inside we are going to take down. Be ready for fight. << before following the massive wolf and his pack mate in, with some effort made to circle around and get in a proper position with Magnus.


Magnus follows the direction of the Ahroun's gaze and gives a nod of acknowledgement to the plan. The Crinos neo-Viking moves into position and flexes his claws


< Yeah Battle Singer-rhya, I'm good to sneak in. It is what I do. > Ratsputin nods his head slowly, as he moves towards the fence slowly now, staying low to the ground. < Tell me when ya'll ready. > His voice is soft, as he bites at the air getting ready. He is ready for this and he is ready born ready for this kinda of shit.


Shame-of-Shadows dips her head to Battle Singer's words and pauses to listen as word comes through. Relaying the information to the other's on the meat side, then starts towards where the others are heading, trying to slink with her awkward gait.



{{tab}}Around the pens are two men. "What the fuck? I thought Grrgluck had this place warded! Who got Buzz? Our Stud is bacon." the first man says. 

{{tab}}"I don't fucking know. I just know Grrgluck is going to have our hides for this. Bad enough the Sow and her piglets are running amok. You fucking idiot should have locked the gate!" the second man says. Obviously both a bit distracted at the moment.

{{tab}}Only those meat side can hear them speak from where they are.



Ratsputin moves forward slowly now low creeping under the fence, his eyes on the men, as he snarls slowly and then he starts to make it go through with a nod back at the others. Before he starts to blur again he is one with the underbrush, one with the ground moving to flank one of them waiting for the next order.

 
As quietly as they may, the group who remained 'meat side' work their way past the stakes and decapitated heads. Battle Singer leads the way - if the rest of the group can see him at all. He leaves no tracks but there is his scent which he hasn't erased yet. The Fianna is very careful to judge the direction of the breeze and approach the pens from a direction that doesn't let their scent blow ahead of them. When they get close enough to see two people at the pen bitching, the Galliard crouches down and waits for the others of his small group. Very, very low he conveys in lupus, >> They are Black Spiral Dancers. This may get ugly. Careful. << Damn, and he's got a handful of Cliaths to look out for!


{{tab}}While our intrepid group is stealthy, very stealthy, it does not stop the men outside from realizing - THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Suddenly a LOUD HOWL comes from inside the Barn which makes the two outside bristle and fur out into Crinos. Scars and nasty green tinges coming from them, they are quite a sight. It sounds like something may be coming out from the barn - unless someone stops it first.


The gigantic Hispo behemoth's head snaps toward the sudden howl, golden eye glaring while the tenebrous abyss of his empty socket sucks in the light. << You two will join Battle Singer, >> he decides without explanation, turning and dashing toward the barn to see to whatever it is that's making a ruckus.


With a howl of rage, Ratsputin is watching them, he will not fail his nation, his tribe, and his sept. His eyes narrow and then he is pushing, his muscles twisted popping with loud sounds. His body going from that hairless wolf to his war hairless mode, his eyes are narrow with a howl of challenge and rage towards the creatures before him, his claws long as he swings them a few times in the air. He is ready for murder.

 
The moment the two Black Spirals become aware of the group sneaking up, and begin to shift to Crinos, Battle Singer suddenly starts shifting as well, growing larger rapidly as metamorph allows him to change his form reflexively! He grows a great deal larger at once, shifting to Crinos war form. As he stands up on his back legs he lifts up his huge lleupine head and the Galliard lets forth a howl of his own, an 'Anthem of War' to rally their side and call them to the fight! To inspire them with Gaia's blessings!


Shame-of-Shadows's metis self simply slips to her birth form, rising from the tall grass like a storm-struck shadow, towering at ten and a half feet tall and covered in scars, howling challenge.


Drinks with Spirits is noticed. Very noticed. It is not enough to just be noticed, but to be shifted for, "Oh c'mon, you don't need to do all of that." Yipped from his mouth as the mayhem truly begins. But they are, so he is too! A towering raging monster of rage, clad in black underwear denoting the same cartoon cat. He'll answer Battle Singer's war howl with some of his own.


Weathers-the-Storm dashes from the Umbral house into the Tellurian yard, picking up speed like a juggernaut. The bear-sized wolf is snarling, teeth bared in a vicious rictus, and just as he approaches the door to meet his enemy he flows up into his birth form with a roar of << HOKA-HEY! >> that rends the air, clashing into the mountain of a Black Spiral waiting for him on the other side. His silver claws stab the oblique's along its ribs, and while they don't draw blood at first, the goliath Metis yanks his hands free of them so that they begin to burrow into the Wyrm-Wolf, likely burning all the way through.
 

Outside by the dead pig's pen all hell suddenly breaks loose! The two Black Spirals go Crinos and well, so does everyone else invited to the party! Battle Singer usually fights in Hispo but not this time. He reared up and charges in, expending gnosis to fire off a gift right before he slams into one of the Spiral Dancers! See if he can take one of them down before the Cliath's might get mauled. The Fianna Galliard's attack powered by Gaia absolutely slaughters the first Wyrm tainted Garou! Flesh and blood liberally splatter the Cliaths rushing in right behind Lleu! Cuisine Art anyone? There's a reason they call Garou furry death machines!


Drinks with Spirits was /absolutely/ ready to go toe to toe with some Black Spiral Dancer jerkface. But it exploded into mushmeat before he got there, so he just kept running. Charging. Headed right into the barn and flinging claws towards Barney the Great Big Dancer and missing entirely. To slide around behind him and turn to hopefully come after him!


Broken Fang focuses his attention on the two BSDs left outside while Weathers handles Barney - and no, not the big purple dinosaur that loves everyone. The Hispo lupus crosses back right about the time the first one gets quite literally turned into a blood piñata, and without missing a beat, his claws find the second instead. To his irritation, he doesn't seem to leave a mark.


Ratsputin is coming up towards one of the black sprawl dancer his claws out as he moves quickly to swing his claw right for it. His eyes are narrow his rage carrying him towards the goal of murder, as he slices the blood stained his claws. With a little howl of pleasure as he watches the creature, with a snarl and then a gnashing of teeth.


Magnus and Stephen are told to go and help and so help Magnus does. As if he almost planned the whole thing, because no one but Stephen would really know otherwise, he steps out of the umbra and drops right in front of the Black Spiral Dancer with the green thingies that was next to Ratsputin and Broken Fang. Rats manages to get a swipe in first, Broken Fang distracts the BSD next, and Magnus, again...almost as if it were pack tactics or planned, springs forward and slashes with his own claws for the BSD with a hefty, grunty, throaty snarl of <For Baldur!>> as he does so.


Shame-of-Shadows's target is turned into chunky salsa by her battle buddy, and the gimpy metis splits off to go for the other nearby Spiral. Charging forward on three limbs, she ducks in low (HAH, 'low', she's almost as big as Skully!) and rakes her teeth through fur, scoring flesh.



{{tab}}The Spirals just /thought/ they were ready for this - but that proves wrong. Battle Singer's attack just LEVELS the Galliard BSD (fitting ain't it?), taking the Fostern down to a fine mist and pieces and stems around. The rest of the Cliaths go after the Philodox, and as a team the take a piece here and there, before they too down their Fostern. 

{{tab}}That leaves the big guy. No, not Skully. The one in the Barn blasts the door open just in time to take those claws of Weathers-the-Storm. His thick black fur scarred up, with green pus oozing from some of them on his chest. "RAAWWRRR" he cries out as he is hit. He tries to bite onto Skully, but the pain from the silver imbedded in him is too much to do damage.



Drinks with Spirits is drenched. Verily so. Blood enough that his poor black undies are now crimson. He sloshes as he walks, fur curled up in tufts of redness past the dead pile of mooosh. To stand look up into the sky for a moment. "I'm goopy." Then leans over to all fours and doggo-out-of-pool shakes the blood everywhichway.


Weathers-the-Storm is /not/ fucking around here. The Black Spiral Dancer is huge, huh? He doesn't /know/ from huge. Skully is Mammoth personified as he continues his assault, giant arms lashing out to block claw and teeth strikes before his maw darts forward and BITES THE SPIRAL'S FUCKING FACE OFF ENTIRELY, shearing it clean through and spitting it out on the ground. The burly Garou is D-E-A-D /DEAD/, and Weathers-the-Storm places a foot on the corpse before throwing his head back and howling like a godsdamn Tyrannosaurus Rex to warn the Wyrm that if this is the best he's got, he needs to pencil in his fucking beneficiaries on that will.