Icon of Coil: battle [pack-gaians]

August 19, 2002

battle [pack-gaians]

[pine barrens]
((to be HTMLd much much later, heh, hope it makes sense til then))

(madison cassidy)
She is sitting in Gabes clearing, re-stringing the large handcarved drum she carried with her. Bare feet against the wood of the body as she pulls the strings tight. Things had calmed down She had been learning, actually listening, and some of the attitude was gone.. maturing? Hardly...

(decker/Kaj)

August evening.

Flies and mosquitoes. A certain sort of unstirring, suffocating peace brought on by heat. Streams are dwindled, easily forded...even by a man with another hog-tied, badly battered and thrown over his shoulders.

Soon enough Decker arrives at Gabriel's cabin. Hut. Wherever the Fianna Elder made his home. Soon enough, the Modi knocks on the door, heavily, loudly.

...and elsewhere. Umbraside. One-two-three-and-four slide through the dense undergrowth of Luna's Shadow. The leader is pale silver, utterly lovely save for his unnatural black eyes. Behind him, his twisted Beta; behind him, a monstrosity spilling maggots and flies.

And behind all three, one who has no name.

(sb)
He follows his Alpha, and his Beta like the faithful hound he resembles. He runs in Hispo, his twisted form only able to truly keep up with his pack as such.

(gabriel thunder oak)
The walk was good, the spirits were restless. Given the situation as it was continuing to unfold it was no wonder either. Thus time spent away from everything... time to listen, time to reflect, time... well Just time.

Returning to the clearing the tall Fianna stood against a tree looking off toward Maddy. Smiling to himself as he silently watched her work her own project.
A humble change and break to the schedule of events that have been taking place as of late.

(maddy)
She looks over to the guy at the door...
heh she recognized him, this should prove interesting
"He isnt there" she smirks, not getting up from the ground...

Also not knowing Erik was behind her, as well as Gabe watching from the trees

(decker)
...which would explain why no one answered. Turning, the thuggish Modi with the angry grey eyes dumps his burden unceremoniously on the clearing's floor. Those eyes slide past Madison then, alight on ThunderOak.

"He is now," mutters the sullen youth, toeing the bound and gagged - and unconscious, at least for now - man on the ground. Malcom. Not particularly remarkable. "ThunderOak," he greets the elder. "Got somethin' for you."

(asher)
the creature moves (poetic) long tail lashing behind the twisted galliard, mule ears listenin to the chitter of Banes

and what's most frightening of all.... he's still. dead(ly). silent.

(blood eagle)
She doesn't even hear his approach. If he was a damn spiral, she'd be dead, or worse. His eyes narrow in annoyance. Maybe this was a mistake... Well, he's back now.

He steps out of concealment, already sized up Decker, and knowing Madison for many years, he throws Gabe his wicked smile, transformed into a demonic leer by the heavy scars on his face.

(kaj)
From the long claws of the Crinos Philodox danglings a stone, its pull subtle but unmistakeable. There is no sunlight on this side of the Wall; there never is. The moon's light is bright, though, and silvers all the world and all its foliage.

Perhaps, for the Fallen Ones, it almost evokes memories buried deep - primordial remembrances of a time before the Spiral, before Tribes, when all were one. Do they yearn for that time, that place, in some part deep in their black hearts? Or is it only a memory recalled only to be brushed aside, forgotten?

This way. Words not spoken by insinuated, a graceful tilt of head, a curl of tail. Deeper, deeper into the Pine Barrens they move, the children of the Wyrm.

(gabe)
Looking to the man the bundle dropped within the grounds of his domain. Unannounced, Unaccepted, and most assure definatly uncool. The thought of anger rushed over him for a moment before he noticed the bundle more closely. Stepping from the tree the large Irishmen moved closer. Casting a gaze off to the side of him as the other approached, it was about time he saw this one again... nodding to him, before turning his attention back to the first.

"And what be this lad?"

(mad)
She glances to the bound and gagged present being towed by the Modi. Setting down the drum against a tree she stands up,
Madison is tall and athletic, long jet black hair spills over her shoudlers, a white streak (battle wound) striped down the right side, and jade green eyes. Dressed in a black T-Shirt that says Chaosgirl across the front and flared bottom hip huggin jeans.

Eyes move to Gabriel as she takes her place next to him, acnowledging him with a smile before returning her gaze to the Modi and his gift

(adds)
Turning her head she spots Erik and actually takes a step back..

"Well ill be damned" she chuckles and the smile grows...
"Missed me that much did ya?"

(decker)
Decker: a model of Southern gentility. Or not. Cracking his neck slowly to the side, the young Modi scowls.

"If I knew, I wouldn't be here." A step back from the crumpled form on the ground. "I got my suspicions about him. He's Garou, but he don't ever come around here. Don't ever talk to any of us, not even when he saw me on the street talkin' to his friend, and I know my blood's recognizable. When I asked him point-blank, he gave me attitude."

So Decker beat his ass. It made sense, in a Fenrir sort of way.

"Also," he adds after a pause, "that friend of his? The more he talks to her, the more violent she gets. Mindfucked." A slow, loose shrug, ignoring the conversation around him. "I asked Rune," no explanation of who Rune is, "she said find someone to 'test' him. I figure you're the one I ask."

Longest speech of the century from Decker, that.

(be)
He raises his head and snarls at her, or maybe it was a smile. Not even she can always tell. "You know it."

He abruptley turns his attention to Decker and the bound figure, leering cruley down upon it, or him, whatever.

(sb)
They are closing. not a sound issues from the No Moon, but his form shifts, shrinks, until he runs in lupus with his pack.

His body seems to vibrate, the closed in things>/B> within him writhing to get out, to find an escape after beeing pent up within the rotting carcass that is SickBoy.

(asher)
anticipation ripples beneath the tar-black pelt
[this way]
not a sound is needed, not in a hunt like this, the gestures of the Dancers more than enough communication...... the whip dangles (hungry python) from gnarled right hand, the blades tucked neatly into sheathes on make-shift belt

(gabe)
"So you bring this lad before me to test him. Test him for what? Taint? Corruption? Truth? And what if he is Corrupted or tainted? What then? For obviously he would not be alone and any who have been in a pack know you will do whatever it takes to find your mate and if this is so you will have led them straight into my domain."

Pausing for a moment as he looks down upon the bound man.

"That might not be a bad thing after all..."

Casting a look to Erik he smiles.

"What say you Brother? This one is of your tribes blood."

(mad)
She nods, and her hands move into her pockets...
Glancing at Gabriel as he speaks...
led them straight into our domain
nice--just what she wanted to hear..She moves to the treeline..slowly...trying to catch scent of anything in the area, anything at all...

"Might not be a bad thing?" she questions, her head turning to Gabe and Erik as she asks..
"How do you figure?"

(sb - 4th beast)
Behind SickBoy, follows the nightmare for all their kind. Its body liek a scorpion, armored, with 6 massive legs, ending in spikes that tear chunks out of the umbral ground as it follows, deathly silent behind the pack. The light of luna reflects of its entire body. Silver body. Its upper body raised, as it would have been ona centaur perhaps? yet this is no such fable like creature. This is pulled from every shifters nightmare, taken form. the 2 lower, massive arms end in great jagged pincers, and the thinner, longer upper arms end simply in razor sharp spikes. It has no definable head, and what must be its one eye glints greenishly with balefire from the center of its torso. Its back has jagged peaks, razor sharp scales. Its long flexible tail, as the rest of it, of pure silver, ends in a wicked spike, the spike dripping of the greenish and burning essence of the wyrm. Balefire.

(be)
He grunts. This aint no Caern. Any violatin of it is between you and him. That's it. And I say we test this one for taint quick, and be ready to move."

He reaches into his army field jacket and withdraws a shotgun. A cruel weapon, its double barrles have been sawed off, and the stock replaced with a pistol grip. But that is not what catches the attention. The barrlles have both been blackened, and bright glyphs worked into it. This weapon is a fetish.

(d/k)
Decker's never been one to back down. Ever. The thug tilts his head slightly to the side at the reprimand(?), grey eyes thinning.

"I ain't here to debate laws, Rhya. If he's tainted, we kill 'im. If his pack comes...well fuck, we're in fer some fun then."

A shrug, no other words. Blood Eagle (blood of his blood) receives a once-over, perhaps a slight nod.

Umbraside: the one, the two, the three, the four move in single file, closing in. Abruptly enough, Kaj'sha holds up his hand - Stop.

The black voids of his eyes take on a sickly yellow glow; he looks. Sideways.

(be)
His eyes scan the surrounding forest warily. Its more than habit with him, this wariness. Its compulsion. His eyes are always wandering, restless in their search for danger. He knows the wyrm well...

(sb)
It bares its sickly rotted fangs in a silent confirmation of its Alpha's orders. slime drips slowly from its diceased jaws, staining the umbral ground below him

[Sideways - Dinner!]

(mad)
Maddy isnt one who is lacking of conversation most of the time, in fct she is never short of words
unless theres a situation and this seems as close to a situation as it could be, she watches Erik and Gabe, now awaiting any sort of logical move...
As the shotgun is pulled out she smirks slightly...its been a while since shes seen that

(4th)
The beast stops behind the pack It knows, just as any nightmare knows, what comes next. It waits, ready to act upon the command given. Its tail rise up to quiver in the air above it, its pincers snap once. A few steps taken sideways, anticipation of the blood that is to spill soon.

(kaj)
...and then that prickling unease (someone's watching) goes away.

Kaj'sha's eyes blacken again, and he looks to his pack - and the bloated monstrosity behind him.

Have a care. The Fianna is an Athro...not to be trifled with. Three for the life of one is a bitter trade.

Grra'ack, link us with your mind. Then you and I and the beast will run interference for Tam'aul - who aims to disable the elder first. Then we take the fight to this side of the Gauntlet.

Clear?

(gabe)
Looking toward Erik he quickly looks back to the bound one.
Kneeling down he looks deep at this one... taking in his scent deeply he begins to cough. Standing up sharply as he growls into the night....

"Gods be damned... this one reaks of the minions.
Which means he probally isn't alone."

Looking toward Erik quickly... as he points toward the Modi.

"This one is of your blood as well pair up and make ready. We need to sweep the wood. This may not be a caern but damnit there's something near here that is begining to wake and I'm not going to let it fall to these bastards."

Looking down to the bound figure he growls at him.

"Kill it."

(be)
Something aint right. "We're being watched..." He growls, already shifting.

(asher)
stop
sideways
it turn to the lupus SickBoy, reaching to catch the slime (diseased) dripping to the umbral ground (bless my hands with your taint, brother)
nodding to the (nothing) words...... their minds crackle (the pack as one)
and then the twisted (metis, unnatural) body thins

(sb)
A short, barking [Laugh] is the quick reply. His body shifts once more. Hispo is more suited, that is clear now. A gaze to the monster [Nightmare] following them, and one to his packmates. All is ready, now, or never!

[MS]~Lets show these pure ones the truth my brothers.. The Father is with us!~

(itzybitzyspida).
"Well shit" Wipping his grimy oil laiden hands, his face sqwinched up in angst before the radiator mist. Grumbling again as he starts banging on the cylinder with his rubber mallot. "Work God Damn you!"

(decker/4th)
Sometime between then and now, the Modi has changed...on all fours now, an iron-grey beast of (war) destruction, his massive shoulders crowned with a snow-white ruff.

Like father like son.

Without a sound, he pads forward, jaws unhinging to reveal long, sharp teeth. Kill it?

With pleasure.

But it is at that moment that the spirits cry out - abruptly and suddenly - into ThunderOak's mind. DANGER!

The fabric between worlds rips. The first one through? The beast. A nightmare which has no name, all sharp teeth, flailing claws, lashing tail. Shrieking in a twelve-partite voice, all the noise of madness unleashed, it launches itself at the Athro...

(mad)
Great
She follows Erik and begins to shift as well..Flesh changing to the black coat with the white streak. Slowly growing in size, instinctively she is behind Erik
they fought as alpha and beta for so long before, it was almost habit
She makes herself alert and watches..
awaiting a cue?

(gabe)
"This is going to get ugly..."

Sliding his hand behind his back under the shirt the object of rage and power is pulled forth as the Great Fianna begins to shift up. As the clothes of mortal man shred away the deep scars across his chest continue to bare no fur or hair of any kind. (Battle scars) of a former demand.

The marks of rank and tribe splay across his back and shoulders as the bone and stone necklace around his neck shifts with him softly begining to glow with the power of the spirits ...

(sb)
So small compared to the other beasts that fall throught he thin veil of worlds. The hispo is more like a large wolf. Its fur having rotted off in places, so much as to leave most of its head and muzzle completely without it in fact. It comes through with a bound, but wiht it, comes the stench. Its the stench of rotting garbage, of oilspills, and corupption. It is the scent of the wyrm itself, spilling out quickly over the woods, to make pure ones gag, and his packmates revel in the scent of home, and pleasures long forgotten. The Hispo bounds directly into a thorn brush, into the cover of the woods, to prepare its attack.

(be)
Thunder erupts in the clearing, shaking everyone to the bone, except the wielder of the fetish that caused it. Many times the fetish has saved him life in just such a way, and he already was certain there was wyrmtaint near...

(4th)
The beast Follows. A huge monstrosity made of pure silver. It appears standing straight over their fallen packmate, its tail raised and poised, its pincers snapping at the air infront of Decker where he was approaching. Its 6 massive legs digging deep furrows around Malcolm where he lies, its one eye sending a greenish, foreboding light to spill out over the pure ones. Its touch is silver, its skin is silver. The creature, is nightmare incarnate for the pure ones.

(asher)
and behind the beast, behind the dodging lupus, behind his Alpha...... finally the shreiking Galliard - he knew they would react, so he waited
(such a beautiful voice reduced to the coils of madness)
the Song of the Abyss, the Father's gifts of disorientation, confusion, hysteria..... and never ending promise of pain

(decker/kaj/4th/st)
BLAM.

Thunder fills the clearing and flattens Grra'ack and Madison both, as well as Decker. Malcom escapes death - for the moment. Gabriel remains standing, barely, and the beast rears, shrieking its rage.

Then, shaking its head, it charges Gabriel again while the iron-grey Modi attempts to get his paws back under himself only be knocked flat by the swift, pale-furred (silver fang?) Dancer that races past.

Wake up, brother! The command of the Alpha to the unconscious Ragabash...

...as the silver beast lashes into Gabriel, and burns, and burns.

(mal)
**the bound and beaten ragabash begins to stir slowly**

(gabe)
Anger rising from the Galliard as the thunder and the intruders rush into the scene. As the minions of the wyrm errupt around him the foul stench overwealming.

Shaking he steps back as the one lashes into his body. The bone breastplate, a gift from the Mighty Spirit of Gaia deflecting some of the blow yet the fire errupts in his flesh as he howls out both in anger and pain as the firey tool of death desends upon the attacker. The Rage singing in his ears as the Silver Blade seaks out the foul heart of the beast in front of him.

(sb)
It is shock by the force of the thunderclap, but most of the force is taken up by the cover it dodged behind. yet it still bursts the air from its lungs. As the silver beast hooks onto Gabriel, together with his alpha, he continues his circling, searching for that perfect target.

(be)
Erik takes aim on an isolated spiral... These are spirals for sure, and unloads the gun. Trigger is rigged to empty both barrles at once when pulled back on all the way. That's a muther fucker of a swarm of hot lead flying at ya. Too bad he isn't loaded with silver.

(kaj)
The isolated spiral happens to be the Alpha. Lead drives the (beautiful) Crinos back, and he bares his teeth and snarls, hisses in rage. Red explodes over silvery white. Steel-grey melts out of his flesh, then, a shotgun (small as a toy in his Crinos paw) dedicated to his body materializing; he takes aim and lets the rounds fly.

You're not the only one with a gun, bastard of Fenris... - words spat in a dialect of Garouspeech so twisted it hurts to hear.

(sb)
[There!]

The No Moon sees Blood Eagle fire both barrels at their Galliard, and his responce is swift, and painful.

Rage burning in his system, as the Hispo charges, leaps, and lands on Blood Eagles back, claws tearing, fangs seeking the exposed neck, but more importantly, splaying that lethal Malleating poison all over the Fenris with the gun, not like when he went for his packmate earlier, this time, the Ragabash doesnt hold back. Maggots, slime, sludge and poison spraying out over the Fenris in a heavy, corrosive and deadly stream.

(asher)
the song stops as breath is stolen (thunders call) scrambling along the ground to regain his feet, Rage igniting the terrifying sounds from its throat again

and the whip lashes out, it's tip wrapping around Decker's throat (shreiking laughter as blood is drawn), hauling backwards..... keeping him from going after Kaj'sha

(be)
The return blast barley slows his, as he was already following it with his body, claws outstretched as he howls to his great ancestor Axel Troll-Feller to come join him in carving these spirals to shreds.

(4th_)
The beast would scream, if it had a mouth to scream with as the klaive sinks into its chest, cracking its silvery body open, to spray out the greenish essence of hell, Balefire all over Gabriel. Struggling to maintain its balance, it snaps out with both pincers, trying to pin the mighty Athro below it, where the mere touch of its silver body will burn like nothing else could.

(gabe)
Anger Raging as the Galliard summons deep within his soul the power of his own people's voice. As the burning sensation in his flesh continues and as the instrument of death in his hand lashes out at the creation... the scream, no HOWL of the Banshee echos from without the soul of the Fianna. Drawing down deep the power of the Faye people with whom he is kin by blood from days past. The shattering soul shreak echoes through the trees.

(d/k/st)
In the chaos, no one seems to notice SickBoy skulking through the undergrowth...not until it's too late, that is. As the Fenrir Modi wheels to take his place beside his tribemate, SickBoy lands on Blood Eagle's back. Poison stings into his body, wracking him with pain...but what Fenrir ever fears pain?

Decker is still silent, as though he were mute. Teeth bared, he lunges for SickBoy - only to be dragged back, gagging, by the Devil's Whip about his throat. Forced to shift to Crinos, he grapples for the suffocating fetish, straining to rip it form his throat...

...when the Howl of the Banshee splits the clearing, and for the second time, sends everyone crashing to the ground.

(be)
Pain is an old friend to the Dark Moon Warrior, it brings him to the very foot of the Bifrost and unleashes his Rage so the Valkeryis will choose him, and with his Ancestors singing in his veins and guiding his claws, he shuffles, four footed, backwards, while yanking forwards on the thing atop him. Then, when it slides forward over his head, his fangs seek its underbelly and neck.

(gabe)
The spuing flame of the balefire a sore memory from his youth when he faced down the demons which cased the scars across his chest. Anger errupted from within as he grasped hold of the Talon objects around his neck, 6 stones in all and in a fit of rage as the silver continued to bite into him the Raging Fist of the Fianna hurled the stones at the attacker in front of him. IN the same instance as the Blade of Firery Silver of his own was being ripped out from within the hiddious carcus of the animal in front of him.

(this is going to hurt.. alot)

(asher)
mule ears pin as the (banshee) howl sends twisted chrinos reeling backwards (death grip on the whip's pommel, the sickness in salvation) to the ground, dragging the choking Get with him, keeping tension on the whip

until everything reverses and the Galliard rushes forward, toxic claws dripping glowing green (and blessed with my brother's bile) aimed at Decker's face...... eyes, ears, nose...... take a wolf's senses and what is he left with

(a soft throat ready for shredding)

(sb)
Thumped by the Banshee's howl, and now pulled over, the no Moon screams as Fangs first tear into his underbelly, and a torrent of Acidic slime sprays over the Fenris face, from the blisters covering most of SickBoy's frame, pure Acid powerful enough to melt metal, or fur and bone with ease.

[My blessing, your curse!]

Strangely enough, the No Moon doesnt try to escape the grip, instead, his own claws as he shifts to Crinos go around the Fenris, and simply, twists the now puttylike spine of the proud Get, the poison already beginning to make this body like clay to be formed [Twisted] into shape.

(4th)
The monster once more reels from the force of the blasts that rock it, over and over, yet its remains with its vice like grip around the Athros shoulder, pincers digging deeper into armor, and flesh. Parts of its body fall to the ground, shattered, and melt into nothing, as the beast does indeed near death, yet one act remains. Its tail rush up, forward, and down, to try and sink its silvery, poisonous stinger into the neck of the mighty Fianna.

(d/k/st)
Gabriel's furious onslaught destroys the beast - utterly. Silver flies in every direction, scalding shrapnel hitting everyone in the clearing. At the same time, the Fenrir Grra'ack has managed to loop twists in the coils of the whip, maw opening to meet claws with teeth suddenly sharper, suddenly deadlier. A burst of Rage gives speed to strength, and Grra'ack is met with a snapping steel trap that feels. no. pain.

Get of Fenris. Child of Shark.

Bought a moment's respite by his packmate, the Alpha of the Black Spiral Dancers looks about him, ripping a fragment of silver form his skin...at SickBoy dragged under Blood Eagle, the Fenrir fighting to the last; at Asher with his whip about the other Fenrir; at the Beast ripped asunder by the (badly) wounded Elder.

Even so, even so...they were three, and now the Gaians were three. One of whom was an Athro. A very. Angry. Athro.

He makes a decision. Fall back! Perhaps SickBoy will try to grab Malcom; or perhaps Grra'ack. Perhaps. Fall back! To me, Dancers!

(be)
No fuckin way! The Blood Eagle finally summons his rage, and unleashes it fullforce upon the monstrosity of disease and venom that has fouled his body. Teeth blun as he grabs and rips, and shakes his head like a great cat playing with a fresh kill. And he feels no pain.

(gabe)
In the speach of the Gaian Garou Tounge he howled in anger and rage as the fire burned him and his flesh bit deep against the silver and bale fire (Damn another battle scar im sure)... he howled after the Three in HIS Clearing... in the Home of the spirits he called and summoned forth for their protection for their aide...

"NOT this time"

Slowly the song was beginning, the thunder of the earth, the very shaking of the settlement was beginning to rumble and quake in the spiritual realm as the call went out to the Great Grandfather thimself....

Continuing to scream anger and rage at the now regrouping and falling back Spirals...

"YOU called down the thunder and here it comes...

Grandfather of old, Father of the world beyond, hear the song of your child, here the song of your pleage. Rage and Anger, Hate and Victory... GRANDFATHER THUNDER I CALL UPON YOU!"

(i'd say about less than 4 rounds and hell is going to be unleashed... not nice to piss of the Fianna in his own back yard)

(asher)

hate
there is hate in those mismatched eyes
rolling beneath the angry Fenrir's charge (whip uncoiled) slender silver blade pulled from the sheath at his belt (wanna taste my blood, Get?) shreking as teeth connect, as shrapnel bites
five inch blade shoved into Decker's larynx
then Kaj'sha's command sends him scrambling away

(kaj/decker)
Selfishness...

Possibly the greatest (only) reason the Black Spiral Dancers have not yet won this war. Kaj'sha is already back across the Gauntlet, loping off, favoring his right foreleg. His pack will come to him...or they will be left behind.

On the other side of the Gauntlet, the Modi gags as the blade sinks into his throat, bright red splashing onto the ruff of pure white. Clawing it from his throat, he drags himself up and limps toward Malcom, murder in his eyes.

You started this...you end with it.

(be)
Fuck.

He lets the unclean thing go, turning to match murderous eyes with Decker as he approaches Malcolm.

He manages two steps before an odd expression comes into his eyes, like something is wrong and he cant figure out what. He stands there growling lowly for a few breaths, then collapses to the ground.

(asher)
a fist cracks against the back of Decker's skull
(might as well get what they came for)
pain resisted for just this much longer (just a little while), throwing himself past the dragging Get and grabbing the fallen (twice?) Malcom, talons ripping into his flesh in desperate drag/lift/carry
matching the murder in rage filled eyes .....he's mine.
and the gauntlet snaps when the galliard runs into (through) the barrier and away

(system admin)
Slowly the Clouds begin to form as the first of the children of the Storm can be seen. The Stormcrows of Grandfather Thunder, their crys and screatching voices begin to shatter the darkness.

Passage through the Umbra is no safer, in fact it would almost be worse as the circleing form of clouds start to take shape the first bolts of lightning shatter into the distance striking trees and bringing death to the Banial spirits that accompanied the Spirals in their crusaide.

(decker)
...and his prize is snapped away. Dazed from the blow, furious, the Fenrir lunges, teeth snapping shut on the Dancer's ankle. Bone crunches, tendons snap...

...but not fast enough.

The Dancers are gone. Darkness settles in the glade and the Modi, baring his teeth uselessly at the empty air, slowly sinks down in exhaustion.

(gabe)
The song continues from the Large Fianna, the silver finally being dug out of the flesh of his side and upper arms, those would heal eventually, yet the fire did its deed. Draining down his right side in a long streak... a faint scar but a scar none the less would form there.

(kaj)
...and Umbraside: the Philodox, far in the distance, turns. Gathers his will, his Wyrm-given gifts; unleashes the command as spirit energy crackles and fades, devoured.

FATHER! Protect us!

Banes gather; darkness becomes absolute. The cackling laughter of the Goddess of Corruption splits the heavens...the Spiral Dancers have vanished with their collected prize.

(be)
His limbs will not obey him. They rebel, locked and rigid as if in death, though his eyes are bright and burning with rage. He grows angrier and angrier the longer he cannot move, and finally gives himself away to Fenris and Frenzy. Still, he does not move more than to throw himself into convulsions of Rage.

As the thunder roars he slips into unconsciousness, fury and willpower spent, though he witnessed the lesson taught to them well enough.

(gabe)
The song slowly dies as the thunder parts and the storm crows of the heavens decend and fly off into the Umbra persuing their prey. Many of the banes will not make it but the battlelines have been drawn.

Standing the rage inside him and the pure force of will refusing to let him fall to the earth as the biting, searing pain rushes through his body. The healing would be slow for this wound. Still he stares off after the menising Spirals...

"Fools..." he growled "Now we know their numbers and strength... the hunt begins"
Posted by asher at August 19, 2002 12:00 AM

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