2020.11.28:Sept of Abundant Waters - Heavies

Sept of Abundant Waters - Heavies
The Elders Take Care of Business in Florida
IC Date	Dec 1, 2020
IC Time	Midday
Players	Wazi, Journey, Skully, Sergei, Johanna, and Killigrew as ST
Location	Florida
Prp/Tp	Sept of Abundant Waters

Howling-Wind looks around with his giant boar tusk fang dagger gripped in his hand as the attack group drops out of portals, taking deep breaths as he draws on his various gifts, his fur shimmering and glowing and his anger grows >>Winter has come for you all darkling wretches.<< And a rime of impossibly cold frost pulses outwards, plunging all the land into the depths of winter. And then Howling-wind's rage flashes over and he burst into flames, HOWLING >>WWENNNNNNDIIIIGOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!<<

Journey, the guy who never changes clothes it seems, always wearing the same thing, slightly too weird in any situation, now a silvered spined ghost of destruction ready to do the job, prepared, and set, moving with the Mammoth Pack, sliding along the moon bridge, because that's how everyone is moving. Once the material world is back, joining the call of Gaias spirits with Johanna, and as the world comes into place and the ice begins taking over, holding his blade, and lifting his voice to sing the song of the Great Beast to come, and do as it will before focusing his will into the area, <View the Battlefield>

Starchaser is one of the last ones through the moon bridge, making sure all their compatriots have slid on through with them. Upon arriving, the black and white crinos warrior calls out as well to the gaian spirits all around them, asking for their aid as they have come to fight the Wyrm. She calls to Mammoth as well, hoping he will stand with them as they seek justice for Gator and all of the Sept of Abundant Waters.

The goddamn earth shakes when Weathers-the-Storm walks, and he moves and looks like something alien and eldritch. Twelve feet tall and eight feet wide, covered in spiny quills of hardened steel and glowing with an inner light that makes his features blurry, his hands are blazing in fire and he is flickering between the Umbra and the Tellurian like worn celluloid film in a shoddy projector. He may not definitively be the leader of this attack force but he is MOST CERTAINLY it's visible vanguard, and when Winter comes out of season and the battle is declared the massive Crinos throws his head back and roars like the goddamn T-Rex in Jurassic Park, his cavernous lungs declaring << HOOOOOOOOKA-HEEEEEEEY! >>. The Wendigo have come.

Khol isnt there, but sees whats happening. Even for him this is an impressive sight to see. he smiles just a little as he sits in the meditation circle's center, a faint glow around him, almost imperceptible, and he watches for the reaction of the Dancers, banes and spirits, or any other new issue he was unaware of before. His mind in touch with those of the pack, but quiet so as not to disrupt them.

Puddle Jumper runs with the Mammoth Pack along their moonbridge in her lupus form, growling softly to herself as she calls upon her Gifts. She grows larger and leaner as she runs, changing slowly up to Hispo and then a blood-crusted, bandage-wrapped Crinos form shimmering with the soft light of Luna's Armor. Her claws turn to silver as she leaps out the other side of the moonbridge and straightens to her full height, scars on display and joins the howling with a surge of inspiration for those she's accompanied: <<KILL THE WYRM HOWLERS!>>

The howls of the Gaian's couple to that painful freezing strike that hardens the waters of the swamp. Beneath, the alligators shut down or perish, generations of Gator's kin wiped out in a moment. Fish, turtles, life in the swamp decimated by the Wendigo's gift to bring winter to the eternally sunny Florida.

From the camp, there are screams of agony as bare skin is cold-scalded and flash frozen when that initial blast surges across the landscape. A moment's silence, and all hell breaks out. A massive, black crinos with deep scars on his body, bursts out of the back of the main hall, howling challenge, his voice joined by many, many others - some distant, but most near. The alpha is damned near as big as Skully. The bat-eared dancers gather in moment, all their voices lifted in howls and snarls, eyes glowing green with a sickly green fire. Green wings spread from their shoulders. Most are covered in disgusting lumps, massive tumors that drip with rancid pus, leaving slimy dollops of ichor in splatters around them.

One of the last to arrive casually chucks a woman against the back of the mainhall as it exits, the sound of breaking bones and gurgling breaths unlikely to reach the ears of the Gaians amidst the rest of the cacophony.

Shaderunner growls, *Your blood was not this, your burning is twisted, and your truth is hidden behind the corruption on your life. PHOENIX! Take this Mockery of your glory from our Sight while Gaia's claws do their work!* A bellow from the Theurge as he points, dismissively to the Dancers, and whiff the fire wings out from under them. There's a Kinfolk he knows who would be horrified. Heh.

Weathers-the-Storm's lope slowly speeds up into a jog that pounds the earth when the enemy show their faces, and he snarls a wordless roar of challenge toward them that is sure to sting their twisted ears. As he runs, the wind picks up at the Gaians' back, first as a strong zephyr but soon as a raging squall in the faces of the Spirals.

Starchaser is ready for whatever comes their way. She leaps, dances even as her agility is on display following Weathers-the-Storm. >> Come spirits! << She beckons to those she has called to stand with them.

Puddle Jumper flexes her claws on all four limbs as she takes a moment to survey the battlefield and the Black Spiral Dancers rushing out across the frozen ground. She growls, rumbling deep in her chest, and then fixes her gaze on one of the enemies flanking their apparent alpha. The growl becomes louder and turns into a snarl before the Ahroun smashes her silver claws into the ground, tearing great chunks of ice and dirt free in a show of brutal strength before she is loping on all fours after Skully, directly for the one she singled out. The meaning is clear, if lupine: <<You will die more easily than this.>>

As Shaderunner growls out his banishment, Howling-wind lopes along and howls out >>Fang and Claw, Nergial's Blessing Calls you to War!<<

And along with the tide of winter, the russian wendigo brings a matched pair of Hogzillas, angry giant boar spirits. And they Arrive flanking what Shaderunner's Song summoned. A Great Beast from the Depths of Winter. Gaia's Rage shakes the earth and Raises its furry trunk to trumpet. Mammoth Comes to War beside his Chosen.

And with Starchaser's call ringing out, Every Gaian spirit for miles starts descending on the banes and spirals to drive them out of this sacred place.

Several of the Dancers snarl, one, then another, then a third pointing in Journey's direction as their wings are snuffed out. Howls ring out across the ice, hot breath billowing from the massive maws of the black pack.

One of them screams and pisses down his own leg, greening the snow with the putrid fluid before he breaks loose and dives for the 'safety' of the space under the main hall.

Another sidesteps to a tree, putting his huge clawed hand on it. The tree withers, leaves falling in moments as the life is drawn from it. In the other hand a ghastly green ball of fire builds and grows, wisps of flame solidifying into something the seems almost solid.

Beyond that sickly green sheen that taints the Gauntlet, another battle rages, four of the Dancers leading a mass of banes to join the Gaian spirits in war, the two sides clashing and tangling, swaying back and forth as one side pushes or the other draws back.

Starchaser as always has Weathers-the-Storm's back, and this is no different! He goes after the Titan of the group, and she attacks the nearest enemy that could possibly get into the middle of that business. Her claws may be out, but it is her teeth that want in on the action first. Lunging at the beast, she sinks her teeth into him, ripping and tearing large holes to maim him. At some point some mosquito of a BSD tries to attack her, but she could care less with as strong of protections as she has up! She continues to tear into this guy she is on until he is nothing BUT a pile of ooze and mush. NASTY.

Shaderunner lurches. Gone Behind the Dancer that just killed the tree, golwing orb in hand, the Silvered Crinos appears, and a jutter, as the back of the skull gives to the blade, then WHOOMP, the Dancer is next to the blade, looking at the Silver Strider, as Shaderunner looks at him, <<Oh you Fu->> AND THEN THERE WAS WAZI! GRFVFGBHRBR! The Strider moves on, closing past Skullys handiwork, and slashes visciously into another Dancer that tried to hit him from the back. The blade strikes true and the falling dancer hits the frozen ice. And then the Strider moves again, jumping and cavorting, slashing and stabbing at air. In the Umbra a small edge of razor sharp force dances and moves, slicing into Dancers, spoiling attacks, disrupting ththe battle from another dimension, striking with impunity.

The War Goliath that is Weathers-the-Storm charges the enemy's Dark Titan with a thunderous howl on his lips, echoing in brutal baritone across the frozen battlefield as the giants charge one another. The Titan's Rage burns out of his control after a curse from the Wendigo cyclops, and in his fury the Spiral leaps forward with a savage claw-slash as his opening attack in what he anticipates will be an epic battle.

Weathers-the-Storm's lambent, shining metallic form iridesces as he suddenly jukes aside and around the oncoming Black Spiral ogre, and with uncanny grace for a monster his size he circles his opponent and grabs the leathery skin of his neck. With a choking contraction of his claws and a single pull the Ahroun decapitates the greatest of the Black Spiral warriors, ending him immediately and then slapping the head to his chest where it is impaled upon his spikes as a grisly figurehead of combat. The Metis throws back his head and arms and howls his victory, daring further opponents to come for him with a cry of << WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENDIGOOOOOOOOOOOOO! >>

Howling-Wind allows his brother wendigo the honor of the tip of the spear and hangs back in an attempt to rouse the elements against the spirals but it doesn't work. the darkness has grown too thick. But he knows that knives still work so he rushes in with his tusk dagger to catastrophically disembowl the spiral that was trying to flank Starchaser. One mosquito, squished.

After scaring off one of the Black Spiral Dancers, Puddle Jumper charges into the fray on all fours, hot on the heels of the true elders. Rather than wading in as one more champion to absorb blows, she moves among the group of friendlies, dodging nimbly between bodies to strike at exposed flanks. Her silver claws tear viciously through a Dancer that threatens Shaderunner, then a second Dancer threatening Starchaser. Neither can withstand her silvered might, and when she spins toward the final Dancer she's in time to see it fall to Weathers the Storm. There is a staticy, awful feeling in the air and a stench of popped pustules, ichor, blood, and something worse. But the Child of Gaia rises onto her hindlegs again, head swiveling slowly to take in the carnage and see what else might need killing.

Slash, stab, turn, low sweep, high slash turn, the Strider is still fighting, if they understand, they're given no chance to act on it if Journey has anything to say. SOME Garou might call this less than honerable striking from this position of safety. These people are idiots, and Shaderunner keeps the assault on the Umbral forces till the tide of Gaian spirits is assured. Then pulling out a leather bottle from his fur, he tosses it into his maw, and looks to Weathers, holding up another leather drink container as he crunches down on the Gnosis Water, swallowing, <<Ready?>>

Skully's baleful golden eye sweeps the battlefield for any other opponents, and without looking one of his giant hands snaps out and literally pulls a Bane from the Umbra and pops it in the real world like a tick, sending purple ichor raining to the ground. << Ready, >> he snarls to Shaderunner, stalking toward the confrontation with Gator that they all knew were coming. << Starchaser has my back, >> he tells the Theurge without having to ask his packmate; she's way ahead of him.

Howling-Wind will remain outside the building that contains the Heart. Keeping watch in the cold and the quiet. He's Siberian, so he's used to it.

Starchaser follows Weathers-the-Storm, always got his back. Her eyes searching now through the destruction they have wrought to their next destination. Gator.

The cold has slowed the blinded Gator down. Massive, he's a good twenty-five feet long and as high off the ground when laying on his belly, as he is now, hip high with a mouth that could snap a Garou in half in one bite. One of his Children is in front of him, half eaten, the massive totem, laying on the remains to keep them close and safe. A nasty, pulsing grey tumor is centered on the top of his head, tendrils extending into the eyes, causing them to film over so he cannot see.

Khol keeps his focus on the battlefield as a whole, but he is clearly observing the elders a little closer. He has kept quiet to not disrupt them as they work. His perceptions cross over as well as the others do, to witness what is happening on the other side of things.

Shaderunner tosses Weathers the Brew, looking at Gator, head tilting, nodding, watching, making ready to move as Weathers starts the ole Tank and Spank.

Weathers-the-Storm snags the spirit brew from the air and quaffs the contents in a gulp, growling his thanks to the Theurge and sizing up the massive, slothy Gator with the parasitic tumor at its scalp. The Ahroun snarls, his golden eye blazing, and calls out to the Totem, << Let's you and me dance, >> channeling its focus so that the spirit sees no target but him on this battlefield. The Wendigo sets off at a trot, but is soon charging full speed, and leaps to collide with the spirit while locking arms around it's heck and torquing the creature off-balance.

Shaderunner hops thrice on his padded feet then sprints off after Weathers. As the Wendigo launches up and clashes, the Strider poofs out, and appears on top of Gators head, , right behind the Tumor, one hand lifted, ready to strike into the tumor.

Gator thrashes, snapping his head back and forth, trying to fight off the strength of the Garou. The tail swings and the big beast growls, the sound more felt than heard, as a low vibration in the chest.

Starchaser is keeping her eyes open, watching what the two Elders are doing. Not just staring, but looking for any other dangers that could come along.

The thrashing Gator is several significant handfuls of problem, but Weathers-the-Storm is like the titan that ate the giant, especially in this Balrog form he's adopted. The steel spines of his hide bite into the Gator's scales and pin the two together where the Ahroun's powerful torso holds the Totem's neck, and once the Wendigo's foot touches the ground he roars another << HOKA-HEY! >> and is suddenly /rooted/ there. It is as if the spirit-Gator was caught in the fork of a mighty oak that would not give for the very gods themselves, and it means the big brute is able to hold Gator's forelegs off the ground and keep the monster from thrashing while the Silent Surgeon does his work. << CUT IT THE FUCK OUTTA HER BRAIN! >> howls the warrior to his comrade, who then snarls as a swarm of Banes attempt to swamp him in retaliation.

Shaderunner snarls, thrusting his hand into the spirit, the fingers sinking in with no resistance as he reaches into the ephemera of the spirit itself, fingers twitching. Lobotomizing it. Once that's one, he holds on, concentrating a white light beginnning to build behind his eyes and in his mouth, building, growing stronger...

Pinned TO Weathers-the-Storm, held in the vise-like grip of the massive, porcupined metis, the beast strains, but gets nowhere.

Growing power, light building, energy increasing, and the light suddenly lashing out as his claws come to the tumor, light pouring into the cancerous flesh as he pulls the two seperate spirits apart, the parasite mindless at the moment, the extraction coming free with a loud snarl, with the inner exorcizing light pouring from every hole in his head.

Shaderunner exorcises and excises the tumor from the Totem even as Weathers-the-Storm holds and pulls Gator in the opposite direction, struggling against the insidious tendrils and forcing them to jerk free and cede control in a desperate struggle. But the battle was preordained; this is an overwhelming force.

Shaderunner peels off the tumor, and rolls slightly to the fore, clear of the tail as he grabs and wrsetles the giant fucking snotball and reaches into it concentrating. From slug like glob of flesh, the inner light glows inside the spirit as Journey turns the very nature of the spirit, lifting, titanic strength hauling-

MAAAAAAA MAMAMAAAAAAAAAMAAAAAA A Goat. A giant Engling in the shape of a goat, the Strider carries the mass in both hands, <<WEATHERS!!!!>> He approaches, <<LET HIM GO!>>

Sounds like Gator needs a snack, so Starchaser is going to move back a bit further, still watching them all, and ready to help Weathers-the-Storm if things go South releasing Gator.

The command is given; Weathers-the-Storm releases the Gator and steps back-back-back from the scene, having yanked free his spiny torso to release the Totem entirely. He grunts, watching the goat-Engling, and asks, << Was that... /intentional/? >>

All the power, all the strength stolen, all stored in the Engling, fresh flesh, a sacrificial Spirit for the predator of the swamp. The goat Engling flails uselessly in Shaderunners grip, lifted and thrust forward as the Strider runs for the snout. Knowing what's coming knowing what to look for, a reflex of a confused spirit, the bite finding purchase on something. As the darkness of the blurring great green jaws registers. Journey teleports the FUCK out. This is Wisdom. Vanishing an instant before the teeth descend on the Goat, the Strider appears just outside the building, off balance, and going quadripedal, one hand up to shield his eyes as that Engling pops to Gators jaws.

Teeth snap shut on the Engling, Gator snapping her heavy head back and forth, then tilting it back and chomp-swallowing the other spirit that fed on her, sapped her sight, her strength.

The milky vision clears, the great beast rising up on thick, scaly legs and rasping a rumble of warning, snapping her jaws here and there, then turning to nudge the half eaten corpse with her snout. Force fed her own Children in her blindness. <<Mammals have freed me.>> Likely as close to a 'thank you' as a giant Gator spirit is going to get: Acknowledgment of the deed done. There's a roll of it's eyelid over the cleared eyes and the beast moves to slither under the main hall, coiling in the nest.

Shaderunner watches Gator, watches the gambit, the feeding, the cleansing of the eaten flesh, and pants, nodding as Gator takes her leave, nodding, and gets back to bipedal, pulling his blade again and snorts, <<Okay, next?>> He growls, looking around.