2019.05.04: Swamp Patrol

{{Infobox Log |name = Swamp Patrol |summary = Battle Singer (Lleu) leads a patrol to followup on Wyrm sign an earlier patrol lost tracking into the swamp east of the bawn. |icdate = 2019.05.04 |players = [[Raven], Troy, Mora, Against the Wind, and Lleutrim as ST. |location = Swampy forest south and well east of the Caern. |spheres = Gaian Garou }}

Everyone is due to show up on time at the Patrol Depot in the Caern's caves. Lleu is already there and kitted out in a plain grey T-shirt, blue jeans, black combat boots and his usual black leather motorcycle jacket. His grey eyes in his scarred face study the notes laid out on the day's patrols as they come in.

"All right everyone, listen up. A patrol just sent back an early runner to let us know that they picked up Wyrm sign out east by the marshlands. They tried following it but lost it in the swamp." Lleu pauses there to let that sink in, "We're going to go check it out, see if we can pick up sign of anything. We'll head out in lupus for best tracking to scout out the area carefully. Whether we find anything or not, it's a great opportunity for you to practice some stealth. See if you can impress me. Any questions?" Following after Against the Wind is Troy, who is not carrying any meat in his mouth, just an acoustic guitar. He gives a nod of his head in affirmation as he folds his arms over his chest, listening to the instructions. "No questions."

Against the Wind proudly strides into the patrol staging area, a large deer rear leg haunch clutched in his massive maw. He sets the fresh meat kill at Battle Singer's feet with all required deference then moves over to take his postion with the other members of the patrol, offering them each a look of accepting acknowledgement. Doesn't seem to be any questioning look on Against the Wind's visage.

Following after Against the Wind is Troy, who is not carrying any meat in his mouth, just an acoustic guitar. He gives a nod of his head in affirmation as he folds his arms over his chest, listening to the instructions. "No questions."

Raven, apparently having been hanging out in the Patrol Depot for awhile due to a prior engagement, drifts over when Lleu looked ready to get started and when Troy shows up she moves to stand next to him, giving a light shoulder bump. "Nah. It's go time." She notes with a bit of a bounce in her demeanor. She's been looking forward to today since she got on the schedule.

Mora shakes her head as she has a dagger on her side "Yes did they say how strong it is?" Walking towards the people she looks ready to talk on the go.

The former Marine turned Galliard eyes the venison haunch Against the Wind brings him, "Thanks. Also, my wife who's name is Faith, baked a shit ton of fresh peach tarts. They're in my rucksack here." Lleu picks it up and lays it on the table and opens it up, "She asked me to hand a few out so please help yourselves. Good to have your calorie count stoked in case we get into something ugly." A container is removed and opened up. Nice warm peach tarts smell fantastic. People can grab any they want while final questions are addressed.

There are also bottles of water. Lleu snags one and drinks the whole thing down to make sure his hydration is topped up. All of it will remain behind awaiting their return as well. He looks to Mora, "It was many hours old since the last patrol had been through the area. Possibly two formori, humanoid boot tracks. They're likely long gone but we need to be certain."

"Two able bodied fomori can take on a whole pack by themselves with ease, especially if they are armed." Troy says as he starts to peel out of his clothing in an unashamed manner. He reveals his scarred upper body with the feathered wings across the back of his shoulders. After working his pants and boxers off, he starts to pack his clothing, as well as a bottle of water into his backpack. The guitar is snuck into dedication. "I've fought hundreds of them over in Africa. They're like jigsaw puzzles. They come in all shapes and flavors, and none of which taste very good. If any of them got glowing green eyes, they're gonna be filled with balefire. You take that guy out first, fast and hopefully at a distance." With that, he shifts down to his lupine form and plucks up the bag in his teeth.

<As your totem is Eagle, I thought bringing an offering was the proper thing to do> Against the wind replies as he looks ready to go. His ears taking in the sounds of the forrest and his nose pointed in the wind.

Peach tarts, well, they earn a quiet "Fuck yea!" from Raven who remains still just long enough for the container to be brought out and opened. She snags a pair of them and starts to stuff them in her face without any kind of apprehension. Though with Lleu being in a hurry, she really isn't graceful about it. She starts tugging off clothing and following, not really worried about what she's got disappearing while they're gone. And in no time there's a golden wolf running along as well.

Mora says "it my pack I have two liters of water and trail mix that my boss made... oh and she thinks I am at a firehall training. But I would not mind trying one." She shifts to lupus form <Raven after this let me teach you the rite of Talismen ictation.>

Battle Singer pauses at the doorway and looks back to Troy first, >> You don't have dedicated clothing? We can fix that later. << The large Fianna wolf looks also to Against the Wind, >> Not yet, but soon. << Troy's words gain no comment from himself and a moment later Battle Singer exits the caves and starts heading eastwards.

The forest at night is rich and full of life. There has been more rain than usual this spring and things are greener and more lush than in past years. The air is scented with green growing things, flowers, pine, the earth beneath their paws. Battle Singer leads them at a lope, silvery eyes bright in his scarred face, ears up and alert as he runs for they have some distance to cover ere they'll come to the eastern edges of the bawn. Miles to traverse. He runs smoothly, leaping over obsticals and making no sound generally as he leads the way.

For a little while they only travel, running. The stars peek through the forest canopy at times above, a hint of the moon glimpsed through the leaves. As they begin to depart the higher drier ground and the landscape becomes ever more lush, Battle Singer begins to slow the pace and sniff the air more carefully. >> Seek for tracks or Wyrmsign. << They haven't seen anything amiss yet.

As the pack moves out Against the Wind lets instinct take over. He moves out to cover the right flank of the pack. His large form gracefully moving through the darkness as he keeps his senses alert and keyed in as he moves with the formation.

<< I do. I have dedicated clothing, just not this set. I swapped them out for my guitar today, it's a fetish. >> Mercy's Wings lolls his tongue out with a soft laugh. Once he quiets, he goes into 'go time' and tracks the wind with his nose, ears perked forward as he moves along with the rest of the group. Those who may rank him sets the lead, those who are below him he ensures they are at his flank.

<< To the East, I feel the dark one's touch. It has moved on from this area. >> Mercy's Wings says with a puff of fur about his neck as he flicks his ears upwards again. He jerks his head over, sniffing the air again.

<< You afraid of some skin? >> Teases the golden wolf Crossroads as she bounds along, keeping pace but sticking near Mercy as they go. During the run, Courage-at-the-Crossroad chuffs and growls a battle chant, highlighting the battles of those that have come before them and instilling confidence in the group. She seems to be particularly INSPIRING, though as they slow she quiets and lets the group get to work.

Against the Wind chuffs out off to the right of the pack to alert the others, <ape sign and tracks of the patrol here.> as his maw points off in the direction of of the tracks.

Battle Singer trots a bit further and slows to a stop to sniff around. >> About here the other patrol said they'd had sign. Look around for their tracks and anything they had found. << It won't take long to find traces of the other patrol but whatever they had been seeking is more elusive or was a bit further along the way to the east. Against the Wind's warning brings the Fianna over to check it out as well. >> Good job. Everyone look around and watch out for any other signs. Quietly now."

When he sees Mercy's Wings, Battle Singer's tongue lolls in a silent laugh, >> Not at all. Pockets sometimes are useful though. << His silvery gaze slips to Courage at the Crossroads, >> Nice gift. << The Fianna starts walking and looking for additional scent or tracks for them to follow.

Against the Wind seems to lose the visual trail, so he falls back into the right flank position of the pack formation as the alpha and beta of the pack get the pack moving.

<< Over here.. >> Comes a quiet chuff from Crossroads as she starts to follow a series of older tracks, head low and sweeping back and forth to try and pick up a scent to tell her exactly where she needsto go. As she goes, the golden wolf seems to move even more carefully, padding down on drier spots and keeping low while she follows what she's found.

As he creeps along the ground quietly, Mercy's Wings continues to follow the trackers and trusts their noses. He keeps his ears peeled, swiveling like radars above his head.

Mora follows the others as she haunces down and the lighs shimer around her making her slightly harder to see. But her ears are perked up ready for any trouble though in her mind she is wondering why do these damn squirrels hang around us when we do patrols.

It's Mora that takes the lead on tracking. Battle Singer keeps a sharp eye and ear out as his fellow wolves mill about and pick up the trail. It leads eastwards and at times, it completely disappears as the ground becomes ever wetter from recent rains and slowly decends subtly towards the swamp. The character of the trees here also begin to change to those species that thrive best in wet boggy places, which are uncommon in Southern California. Yet among them remain towering live oaks with branches as thick as a man that hang low or even ramble over the marshy ground. Moss and ferns grow ever thicker, standing water more common, and patches of tall grass and fewer large trees give way to thinner, scrapper and closer trees ... as they come to the edge of the bawn's eastern edge.

Beyond lies the swamp, deep in the southern forest. There are pathes and most of the water is shallow yet there is risk of sucking mud. Battle Singer pauses to look and listen. Just ahead Mora and Crossroads find the last clear tracks. Two sets of boot prints of fully grown men. The grasses they pushed through earlier in the day have a foul, nasty odor. Acidic, yet sweet like rotting filth. Then lies a snaking water course, sluggish in the darkness of the night. Did their trail just end?

Against the Wind watches where the trackers lead the pack. As the trail dead ends at the water's edge, a soft quiet chuff questions, <Velvet Shadow?> the large red talon questions.

Weaving to the side along the edge of the water, Crossroads begins checking to see if the boots reappear a little bit up and down the edge, perhaps doubling back, but she is quiet.

Against the Wind puts his nose to the wind and then settles his gaze to the south east, <stink there.> as his back and neck hairs roll in anger.

Mora looks to towards the south <bent grass to the south> her ears perks up <Any one hear that, I think its a animal... not sure> she is looking to the others and hopes they will look, But she would smile if wolfs can when winds backs her up.

Nodding his head, Mercy's wings confirms. << South by south east. >> He says with a low rumble in his throat. He jerks his ears upwards again, listening. << Be careful, when the attack comes, I will make sure we strike as one. >>

Straightening up, ears perking forward as she tries to focus on a sound, << Something is hurt where Against the Wind says. Pain and terror. >> She snarls low, << We must hurry. >> Crossroads looks to Battle Singer, waiting for his lead.

Battle Singer stands very still like a statue, eyes bright, ears up, nose sniffing the air for several seconds. >> Carefully. The swamp has it's own dangers. << His ear flicks but he didn't catch that faint sound himself, having been focused on evoking a gift. >> Let us go then. Try to stay to firmer ground or water you can swim in. Wary of mud. << The Fianna steps out onto the water and his paws do not sink into it. Nor does Battle Singer even make ripples upon the water's surface. He's looking carefully though for what he hopes is the safest route for the patrol in the hope they don't get bogged down in the thick, deep, soft muddy places.

With a snarl and shift of muscle and bone, Against the Wind shifts into dire wolf form.

As Courage at the Crossroads snarls out her warning, the massive red talon instinctly and as easilly as breathing grows even larger as he starts to move with the pack.

Moving along with Battle Singer, using the paths that he indicates and sticking to spots that have more vegetation Crossroads isn't shy about blazing a trail in her sleek, graceful lupus form. She leaps between high points where she has to in order to avoid the quagmire of soft mud.

The crossing is easy for some, harder and floundering with sucking mud and plenty of water. The problem is that some aren't as quiet getting across as others. The grassy mound provides brief relief and soon the patrol finds there are firm wending pathes then more water to cross - repeatedly. All of the wolves are soon muddy and wet. Even Battle Singer for he isn't always immune to the mud and water others shed. Their own trail is quite obvious in some places and swallowed up by the muck in others. There are no more boot tracks to follow most of the time yet here and there some sign pops up. It soon becomes obvious the other patrol didn't try their luck in the swamp.

Deeper they go as the night grows later and the new moon, only a barely there sliver in the night sky, grins down at them like a Cheshire Cat's lopsided grin, shedding very little light. A bit further on, there comes a sharp yelp! Followed by snarling. A thing's voice rasps some command and there is the muted sound of impact - directly south and much closer.

The hackles on Battle Singer's back rise up as if of their own accord.

There is no doubt to any around him that the massive red talon's anger is on the rise at the echo of the yelp in the darkness. But the giant beast doesn't break ranks yet, but you can see his muscles tense and coil like he is on the verge of charging in.

<< There is a fight happening. An attack. We should move quickly, but careful in case it's a trap. Someone is getting hurt real bad. >> Mercy's Wings rumbles to the pack as he jerks his ears forward.

Mora grew up in Ireland she is use to this and has not problem as she gets to the grass. She thinks as least they dont have marsh thorns here because they freaking hurt. She hears the primal yelps she keeps her cool

Growing more agitated, Crossroads starts to pace back and forth at the sounds, waiting for the patrol leader to give a sense of what he wants them to do. She's bristled and moves towards Mercy, rubbing her shoulder up against him, rumbling low. << They'll pay.. >>

Battle Singer lowers his head and sniffs the ground and then the air, >> Agreed. Go quietly as we can. Spread out a little, don't clump up. If it's /more/ than two of them, fall back and we'll make a plan. If it's just the two we were tracking, we'll move in fast. If they've caught something, one of us should try to get to it and lead it out. Mercy's Wings? << Does Troy want to fight or go for the rescue?

<< I will provide a distraction to pull the enemy apart, split their defenses and cause disruption. When you go to attack, I will sing a song of unification so that you will all strike as one. It will allow you to pick apart the enemy quicker, and allow them to not gain a defensive foothold. >> The Child of Gaia Galliard says as he gives a lick of his muzzle as he trots forward at a quick pace. << Come. I will set the pace of this song. >>

Against the Wind looks over to the alpha, he snarls as he readies to move and strike.

Mora says with Wind she has a bit of a snow white look to most animals.

Remaining quiet now, Crossroads begins to move after Mercy her head low and lips curled in a silent growl as she keeps pace with her tribe-mate.

The Fianna Galliard recalls that Mercy's Wings said he had an idea for their attack. Battle Singer wolfishly grins and conveys as quietly as he may without opening a mind link, >> I like it. Go for it. << He then moves stealthfully through the marsh towards the firmer patch of ground ahead where the sapplings and trees grow thicker with much brush and tall grass to obscure their view. The sounds continue ahead. Battle Singer gives Against the Wind a wolf's version of a nod with brief direct eye contact.

Quietly the ease into the thicket, making their way like shadows. There is a thin animal trail with boot tracks yet it is a narrow path and some may have to make their way through the brush with painful slowness. There is no light ahead, yet the thicket clears on the far side. Two manlike forms loom over the body of what appears to be a black wolf that lies on it's side, panting and badly beaten.

The smell, the SMELL is aweful. Reaking decay, sweet rot. Acidic. Both men are filthy, one muscular and taller, the other lean. The larger of the two has many swellings over his body, pushing through his ragged clothing like absesses. Some of them are oozing. Neither of them appear to be armed.

The black wolf pants, tongue half out of it's jaws, eyes closed. It whines faintly. The skinnier man thing hisses, "I kick it again...?" The larger one grunts, "Wait. Sooon infected."

As he bounds forward, Mercy's Wings is causing quite a bit of noise. High pitched screeches, loud howls and hips as he bounds and dances through the grass like fucking Moon-Moon. << Hey! Ugly butts! Over here! OVER HERE! >> He bounds again joyfully, howling out to the sky. << You can't catch me! You're too sloooooooow! >> He places himself on one side so that the pack can flank as he looks to become the center of attention.

Against the Wind has his gaze locked on the black wolf. His giant form is coiled and ready to spring into a charge.

Mora creaps her way around them so she can strike one of the soon to be corpses.

Battle Singer creeps in with the others but spread out so he's not close by any of them and coming from a little bit of a different direction. While Troy goes right up the thin path directly as a Monty Python minstrel, twanging his guitar like some English Fop, the rest of them get into position. Seinneadair Blàr's hackels rise even MORE at the sight of the downed wolf and it's all he can do to keep his jaws clamped shut and not growl or snarl. No, silvery eyes bright, he holds back to let the others get ready.

Both of the formori turn sharply at the strange noises and Mercy's Wing's entrance with his guitar and his silly antics. The gifts fired off at the pair roll over them and the larger of the two that starts to snarl, staggers back and looks disoriented. The leaner one hisses and crouches, and at once begins to change... growing larger... and larger...

Against the Wind isn't as quick off the line as Courage at the Crossroads and Finder of the Lost, but once he gets moving his massive intakes of air as he runs makes him sound like a freight train as he barrles through the brush straight to the injured black wolf.

At the distraction provided by Mercy's Wings, those magic words that don't exactly provide the amazing coordination he promised serve as the trigger for Courage-at-the-Crossroads. Like a golden bullet she starts to race out of the marshy grasses, but the festering, boiling anger she feels at this atrocity begins to take physical form as the sleek wolf starts to grow! Doubling, tripling and even more in size until the mass of muscle and fury is nearly in range to exert her vengence.

Mora keeps quiet as she rushes closer to the big formor but her foot steps can be herd as her body shifts to the 9 and a half foot tall monster of ledgen, but is a bit hard to see as the light around her is slighly blended around her. The dagger in her hand is ready to strike the stain on Gaia.

Battle Singer is very, very quick to leap out and run towards the black wolf that's down. He doesn't try to engage the fomor who are going for Mercy's Wings because his fellow Galliard said he'd be the distraction. The Fianna's focus is on getting to the black wolf and then guarding it as Against the Wind rushes up to join him. The snarling patrol leader will watch his fellow garou's back and protect him so Against the Wind hopefully can't be attacked or stopped while trying to get the badly hurt wolf to safety.

Latching on to the lean guy's leg, Mercy's Wings sinks his teeth in and gives a firm shake of his head. Maybe he can unbalance the jerk! He is the skinny one after all. GRRR!

Again as effortlessly as breathing Against the Wind shifts up into his mighty war form. The pure breeding of his ancestor Heat on Sand showing through as the giganic beast reaches down to scoop up the injured wolf and without pause turns directs his large form to start moving out of the combat area.

Courage at the Crossroads was so focused on the Lean fomori as it was getting bigger and bigger that she completely missed the thick mud on the ground where she was going to land. When she started to slide across the ground, her claws swept wide, missing the creature completely. So much for heroics on her part.

Mora has no problem stabing some one from behind as the dagger that she named Asesina thrusts in to the middle of the big Formories back severing many things like important like its carotid artery that splurts out vile blood that by the grace of luck she side step she avoids the vicus stuff that melts a tree.

The big fomor is down, oozing acidic pus and lots of it for Mora sliced him open like gutting a fish! She didn't kill him though for the sprawled thing still breathes. Ichor pours out of the huge cut in his nasty, foul body where he lies on the ground.

The skinnier, lean fomor man hisses and tries to attack but isn't able to do much good, nor does he yet come to harm. He seems /real/ intent on getting at Mercy's Wings and not the least bit phased by the larger fomor already going down like a cheap prostitute. Mora paid him well! Mercy's Wings went for the lean guy's leg but only manages to slobber on it.

Battle Singer keeps pace with Against the Wind as he picks up and carries the black wolf. But my, that wolf smells horrible! Like it has been urniated on or had other foul acts committed upon the poor beast. It begins to thrash feebly in Against the Wind's Crinos grip. The wolf makes a terrible gasping, choking sort of sound as it is rushed away from the fomori.

Courage at the Crossroads roars in rage at her previous slip and twists, literally stabbing the Lean fomor in the lower back with her claws, then tears them out the side as her other hand draws back for another strike.

With a yelp of pain, Mercy's Wings feels blood well to the surface as he is now missing a hunk of flesh. Time to see how many pool balls he can fit in his mouth. (Lleu still has the record number). He chomps hard with a rush of rage.

Battle Singer springs off to keep covering Against the Wind as the Red Talon Crinos carries off the badly beaten wolf that smells badly. The Fianna patrol leader is keeping tabs on how the rest are doing though - they are his responsibility! They seem like they are working well together and have things well in hand after Mora stabbed the fuck out of the big one and took him down. Lleu sees Raven inflicting pain on th lean one, Mora finishing off the pus filled toxic bastard, and Mercy's Wings getting mildly injured but returning the favour!

The wolf in Against the Wind's thick, huge arms quiets down after it's spasm as though whatever was causing it pain and fear looses it's grip and subsides.

Courage at the Crossroads really wasn't trying to hurt the fomor, instead she just tickled his spleen.

Against the Wind barrles off into the darkness, his weight causing impact tremmors as he turns on the speed to get the injured wolf to safety.

After tickling his spleen, Courage at the Crossroads just grabs a handful of guts and tears it out of the hole that she had made, slinging gore across the grass and mud. Apparently she wants him to feel the slow death and pain of the wolf that it was assaulting! Yeah, that's it!

Mora cuts the neck of the formor she droped just incase he can heal but easly avoids the acid like she can. But she sees the last monster that needs to die she leaps over the body of the one she killed to thrust her weapon in to the monster but misses wide. <Fur gnarl this ass hole.> Mora says as she notices the nasty natural armor it has on.

As Mercy's Wings launches forward, his jaws gape wide, then clamps down between the man's thighs in a vicious snag of teeth. He cuts through the pants and finds the flesh, but not deep enough to do any rending damage. If anything, he becomes a large wolf weight, enough to trip and cause disorientation. Who wants a wolf on your junk? No one.

The lone remaining fomor screams in agony as bit by bit the garou are ripping him apart! His hide is tough, thick and difficult to penetrate. There is even a garou who's sunk his teeth into the tainted man's crotch! It's not at all like a man's screams! The hulking thing that was once a man has fangs, long sharp claws, staggers and falls beneath the onslaught as Courage at the Crossroads' attack tears him up even more and Mercy's Wings isn't letting go.

The garou will have no trouble finishing it off now.

Against the Wind stands there at his imposing 11 foot 6 inch tall height. His pure white fur covered in nature, but the blood red patch of fur on his chest stands out. he continues to hold the injured wolf as the healing and clensing is done.

Once the battle has come to a conclusion, Mercy's Wings shakes himself off, then trots towards the black wolf guarded by the Talon. He lowers himself down to look less scary, then gives a gentle nuzzle to the creature as he sends a burst of warmth into his injuries to seal them up. << I'm sorry you had to go through such pain. >>

And then it is finally done. Courage at the Crossroads delivers the final blow and the last fomor is finished. Things are a muddy and bloody mess. Against the Wind finds that the wolf he's carried off is barely alive. The wolf-kin is badly tainted and it's not clear if a bane was trying to possess it or not. It doesn't do anything strange however. Battle Singer takes stock, >> Healing first, then Cleansing. Let's get to it. You all did well! << It's a lot of work to gather everything up that's needed but the garou form a circle. Pure water is produced and smudging commences as the garou lift up their voices to perform the Rite of Cleansing. It's a good thing they are deep in a swamp in the forest.

The last stars are twinkling over head. The patrol has just enough time to finish up and head back for the bawn and begin the trek for the Caern as the first light of day begins to pale the sky in the east....