January 25, 2003
.01.25.03. - aftermath - journey to the blue mountains, pt 4 [pack] *fog

(ST)
You run en masse after the one you judge to be important. the one with the dubious duffle. Rune quickly gains the lead, and though at first decker is close behind, his wounds slow him when rage runs out and he quickly lags behind. And it is a long run, though eventually you all hear the sounds of traffic and smell exhaust. The road. The highway.

Wether you shift to homid or not, you all come upon the road just as a red van peels out, and your cars no where in site...

But before it gets 100 yards down the road something inside it explodes... a Defening thunder... The van swirves, cutting across the highway steeply, and flips onto its side. Sparks fly as it skids thirty more yards and finally it comes to a stop...

A long moment stretches while you try and adjust to what happened, and suddenly the windshield explodes outward, and someone steps out carrying the duffle...

Its erik, with his double barrel shotgun fetish leaning on his shoulder. You can tell all the way from where you stand that he's smiling.


[insert new orders and whatnot.... here.... and welcome to the John Woo school of RP]

(rune)
Springing through the woods - ignoring the catch of underbrush and low-slung tree limbs, the mottled wolf bursts through the thicket of tangled young trees and bushes bordering the narrow, no-name highway just in time to see the damned red van taking off. Her packmates can feel the surging return of her rage as she pushes off and leaps across the ditch, landing on the shoulder with a spray of gravel and continuing down the blacktop as if she actually thinks she might outrun the van.

The van swerves, then - several hundred feet down the road, already disappearing - and rolls over on its side. The creature's long strides never break. Never break, until, that is, the windshield bursts in a scintillating shower of glass and Erik steps on out, duffle bag in one hand, shotgun fetish in the other.

Oh, yeah. That's why he's their alpha.

Sharp claws scrabble for purchase on the asphalt, patchy with the remnants of a recent snowstorm, and eventually (no antilock brakes on this damn form) she comes to a skidding stop.

The (extended) pack forms a loose circle around the Alpha and gets its orders. Mick heals some of Decker's wounds so the pack can get on its way, then turns to tend to the SongKeeper. Rune hangs back long enough to get highway directions, and imprint them on her memory, then lopes to catch up with the rest of the pack.

(james)
he's just...... glowering
through the realization of the Van, their alpha, the healing
he's the one quietly sitting off to the side
second guessing that undeniable drive in him to never abandon pack
maybe he shoulda been the one to stay back and guard the kin
there's a thousand reasons going through his mind on what else could have happened
now that they have this moment to sit and think
the one above all others right now?
maybe if he stayed behind they wouldn't have to go hunting again

(what happened to you, Jamey-boy, did you lose all that fight when your pack died? what.... exactly have you done since then to prove yourself one of Gaia's Chosen?)

there's a shake that runs through black saddle ruff
he doesn't bother shifting any which way or how
and whatever it is that runs through canid shaped mind is pushed away
gleaned over by a little bit of that blind faith that keeps him breathing
maybe... no

.... don't think about it James
move to lope along and keep pace
take your place behind all the others
just follow
that's what you're good at

(dire)
*He shifts down to lupus when he scents the road. His nose being better than most. Joining them on the side of the road. He mills around with them.

(decker)
And...

...back into the forest they go, single-file, Decker at the van until Rune catches up, whereupon he shies to the side and lets the mottled wolf past. The distance back to the clearing is short, and the clearing is still and peaceful - if you ignore the carnage on the ground. Two motionless Spirals, both still in warform. Though both retain their bland, disconcerting no-scent that had characterized this group, they also now smell quite dead. Then again, with these things, it's sometimes hard to tell - which must be why they hear a loud crunchriiiipp as the Modi decapitates one, and then the other, yanking their heads right off.

He growls low when he sees them looking, says nothing of it, and looks toward the path in the trees the fleeing Crinos had taken. Branches snapped, leaves turned, ground trodden - the trail is easy enough to follow.

(rune)
The trail is easy enough to follow, even for a citified Glass Walker: just think of the carnage a crashing, fleeing Crinos would leave amidst the winter-quiet woods. Even if he has no scent, the fresh-turned earth and rotting leaves have scent of their own, sharp and rich, which carries well on the clear, cold air. The Glass Walker chuffs to try for the scent, then sneezes sharply as she draws in too much of it (far too much) for her tastes, even glazed and muted as they are by the beast-mind.

As Decker decapitates the corpses of the fallen Spirals, Rune begins down the obvious trail laid by the last of the Spiral pack, pausing here and there - swinging the sleek head, snapping at brambles that catch on her ugly coat - to find the trail again. It's a slower pace she sets, now, to be sure they do not miss something as they track.

(james)
maybe a browpoint lifts a bit
watching the decapitation
not particularly any judgement in it
he woulda done it, too

then come the telltale signs of flight
when the fight has left and it's the only option remaining
the branches broke, remaining winter hardy leaves torn free
the occasional prints scattered along what became a path
there are three more sets of pawprints
then his own

whatever self-doubt that's rampant in his mind is forgotten, now
he still has a job to do
while they scout ahead and to the sides
once again he watches the entire picture
looking both at them, and the forest around
trying to pick up what it is they search past

(dire)
*he watches decker take the heads. The one skull caved in and leaking brain from here Helga the war hammer had hit it's head. He chuffs slightly and turns to following rune. Hopping off the path he runs parrelle to them. Again, to the right. Again, flanking.

(decker)
The trail is child's play to follow. It's straight, unwavering, clearly marked by the chaos the Dancer left in his wake. Here and there pieces of fur cling where it had been snagged on a twig, a branch.

And then the path simply...
stops.

There's a hole in the ground, though. Straight down for ten feet, and then it appears to level off and go east. The mouth gapes large enough for a crinos to drop in feet-first, and from what they can see, the tunnel leading away is large enough for a crinos to walk through without stooping...but if they went in their warforms, they would have to go single-file.

(dire)
*Coming up to them he sniffs the air and his ears fold back looking at the hole.* ~WS~ Seen before. Metis make... Burrow hole.

(rune)
The Glass Walker's nostrils flare, taking in only the scent of earth. Her head bobs low and paws scramble on the crumbling sod.

Freshly dug. Offered over the packmind, then repeated in soft, chuffing wolfspeak, for Dire's benefit. The muzzle swings around as Dire speaks, and bobs in understanding. We go down.

...and with that, her form changes again, shifting up into her massive, mottled Crinos and then - literally - sitting down on the edge of the hole before dropping herself inside. Once inside, she changes once more to hispo, dropping easily to all fours and padding forward, yellow eyes swinging to survey the path ahead. The massive beast pads forward slowly, waiting for her packmates to follow.

(james)
okay this?
he hasn't seen before
it may not be the first time that he's fought Spirals
but he's always done it on his turf
meaning aboveground
he's only heard about these tunnels
he's never seen one
he's definitely never been at the point of considering going into one

looks like it's a day for new experiences
might as well see all the sights since they've come this far

flesh moves and muscle grows
Chrinos crouching where the wolf stood
he takes advantage of a nearby chunk of granite in the ground
fingers spreading as talons drag over stone
honed and properly bladed
that's when he follows them into the earth

(dire)
*he nods to James and Follows the bone gnawers moves exactly. Shift up to crinos. Sharpen claws. drop in.

(decker)
The tunnel had appeared empty from above...

...and still appears empty now that Rune has dropped in. There are no Dancers with evil baneklaives waiting to destroy her, and no pack of howling devilwolves.

The tunnel, however, is utterly, lightlessly black, what little light from the hole fast fading into murk. From the slight breeze blowing past though, wet with the scent of freshdug earth, the other end (wherever it may be) is still open. And if the tunnel should cave in, they should be able to dig their way out through the three feet of earth overhead...

Rune's hispo form doesn't quite fill up the tunnel the way her Crinos form would have - she has a few inches on either side, and three or four feet over her head. Still, it's a tight squeeze. The Modi tails at her flank, so close that his breath stirs her fur. His rage is choking in these close confines.

James might be glad to note that the tunnel does not branch the way wyrmpits are rumored to, but instead seems to extend from one end to the other. Still, as they plunge into darkness, it's their other senses that they will have to rely on: scent and sound, the taste of the air and the feel of the earth. And still, everything is silent but for the sound of the pack moving through. Once, for a moment, Dire gets a niggling at the base of his spine, like maybe he listen harder...but then he's distracted by sounds echoed down the tunnel to them. There's a brightness ahead of them now, where the tunnel slopes sharply up not ten yards away, and there seem to be...voices...at the other end.

(dire)
*He follows along in the rear. Constantly watching their ass. If what ever is in here can get though the 3 infront of him he'll hear it coming. He keeps having flasbacks from that movie Aliens where they were in the walls*

(rune)
Cramped in the darkness, blind, with only the scent of fresh-earth in flaring through her nostrils, the Glass Walker trots onward. No longer can they see her mottled coat, shaggy and without the pure definition of the Fenrir. Now they only see - or perhaps merely sense - the massive shadow of the hulking beast ahead of them.

She approaches the brightness cautiously, nostrils flaring in an instinctive attempt to catch the scent of whatever lies ahead as she pads forward, sinking briefly to lupus as her ears twitch to catch what she can of the conversation, or at least distill and sort the tones - how many, what they're doing. Fresh air tickles across her nose, and she sends the sense of it back to her pack, born on Eagle's wings. She doesn't dare even a soft chuff to communicate the impression to Dire. They'll be at a disadvantage as it is.

The Glass Walker stops short, as the tunnel continues to rise, and there's a moment of indecision. The pack receives the impression of the dilemma - charge up through the hole, or waste twenty minutes doubling back and hoping to keep some sort of advantage, and hoping their scentless quarry doesn't disappear into the woods, some non-linear series of images, as she comes to her decision. Forward.

(james)
no branches are good
and so is the lack of claustrophobia
and let's not go into any phobias regarding light or the lack thereof
shoulders hunch from the tight fit
and he just sucks it up and follows

guided by the closed in walls
following the scents of his packmates
fuzzy chin lifts on inhale to explore the fresh wind blowing past them
picking the unknown from that which he knows so intimately
velvet ears swiveling forward as if to catch the words on top of what Eagle brings them
massive paws stop and weight spreads toes in halt just behind the Modi
there's a flick of his tail

the only communication to Dire of what he can feel the plan is
he doesn't even dare a change of breath's pattern
shoulders rolling, listening carefully ahead for the barest signal
.... not about to risk tripping twice by a premature charge

[okay, scratch the smelling thing, Decker still has trollskin on and so James' senses are now SINGED and DEAD and he's READY TO CLAW HIS SINUSES OUT]

(decker)
There isn't much James can smell. There isn't much anyone can smell, from the scent emanating off the Fenrir Modi's pelt. Whouuf. If you thought skunks were bad...

There is definitely a fresh wind blowing by, now. On its back, Rune can hear voices as she sneaks closer...just two, one deep and slow, the other lisping at the edges, higher, and unpleasant. As she gets closer, though, there seem to be altogether two many feet for there to only be two up there. Of course, that's when someone shrills up above - a single, highpitched, grating noise rather than any sort of word, stabbing into the eardrums. Worse, from the thundering of feet, it sounds like it was some sort of an alarm, and whoever was up there was gathering around the mouth of the hole...

(dire)
He crouches. ears hurting but he still watches, smelles, listens to their rear

(rune)
The alarm settles matters. They're sitting ducks down in the hole (she's thinking flamethrowers. she's thinking napalm. that's what she'd do.) and as the alarm sounds above the Glass Walker gathers herself back and then just (stupidly, because there's nothing else to be done. blindly, because she has no idea what's ahead) charges forward. Claws dig deep and deeper into the earth as she gains momentum and leaps from the damned hole in a burst of sudden speed.


(james)
he's a Bone Gnawer
.... and thinks Decker smells bad
but at the shrill sound his ears PIN
(oh. my. god.)
the thundering steps can't be good
the alarm really can't be good
not knowing what is ahead has got to be. much. worse.

but he gathers himself to charge anyway, soon as the path clears
once again that furry freight train of teeth and deadly claws
lashing out at whatever doesn't look friendly
(let us pray there are no more roots)

(decker)
Rune charges.
So Decker charges.
And James charges.

Dire remains where he is, turned around to stare into darkness, ears pricked up - guarding their six. The three vanish up the tunnel and both Decker and James are momentarily blinded by the light. Rune, having been further ahead, has a better time of it, and she can see three. Three men. Three fomori. Three targets.

One, a nondescript man backing away. Two, an enormous giant of a creature, bulging with muscle that can't possibly be normal. If he flexes, he could literally split his skin. And three, a ...thing with entirely too many limbs (four arms?! four legs?!) and a blank, dead face.

All this seen in the flicker of an instant before pandemonium erupts. Rune moves fast, but unbelievably, too-many-limbs moves faster still, attacking her with all four claw-tipped hands at once, shredding. Humans can't possibly react so quick - but then Wyrm's favors are many indeed.

Many - and from the shriiiek that splits the clearing again, discordant and multivocal, the noise of insanity itself - expensive. It's the nondescript one that screamed. It's hard to wrap the mind around it, that such an unassuming creature could make such a noise.

Then Rune reacts with a threat of her own - a long snarl that sends too-many-arms staggering back a step or two as Rune turns on his compatriot - the huge one - and lays into him. It's an onslaught that should've laid him flat - but the creature is tough, supernaturally so, and stays on his feet, and strikes back. Hard. Draws blood.

Meanwhile, the grey beast launches himself over the head of the huge one, blurring and suddenly seeming much larger than before, black laced with hot blue-white gleaming suddenly in one hand as he, for the second time that day, leaps over an enemy. Time dilates for him - in his rage-bubble, silent and...peaceful, he sees the world crawling by in crystal clarity: the sweat on the arms of his opponents, the flash of his axe down.

The crunch of bone. The rupture of organs. And the discharging of bluewhite spirit energy, tearing into defenses raised by the Wyrm. The Modi lands on all fours and time accelerates back into motion. A wrench of his arm rips the axe out, swinging it on the same forestroke to very neatly lop the head of the screaming one off.

It bounces, it rolls, it stops at the feet of James - who tears claw and tooth into the many-limbed one, who proves not so very tough after all, falling quite easily under the Ahroun's furious onslaught. A tree root may have tripped him up before, but here James isn't playing around anymore.

Two down, one to go. Only...

...the tunnel over Dire's head suddenly caves downward. A black shape drops from nowhere, shrieking Whippoorwill's call as an ugly knife, the tooth of some great beast stained black with ichor, rends the Skald's side. Even with Dire's senses, he never saw it coming.

(dire)
*Dire.
ROARS!
A total roar of ingdination.
a Roar of Hate.
A roar of fury.
A roar of combat.
And as he roars Dire goes totally bugshit. Decker has seen it before when they battled the Spider. In the confined space Dire calls on his rage. Jaw goes for the fuckers throat., slamming his back aginst the tunnell he attacks with all 4 apendages, enhanced with the razor claws. Both arms swinging in blurrd motions, both legs swinging, holding himself up by his teeth on the things face and he lets out his war cry in times like these.* ;OIASEDLUIGLADBSLUGILDBGBUDSBLG,BLBVABSERILGBLNZRSGBLLCBAEg!!

(rune)
One tear across her flank, another blow across her shoulder - snarl - the hispo-formed Glass Walker presses the assault, surging forward as hardened earth spews beneath her claws. The sudden eruption of movement as she spins and presses the assault.

Rip. Claw. Tear. Die. (Fucker. Die.)

(james)
the mottled she-wolf breaks onto the surface
the enormous gray follows soon after
he was never one to abandon pack or hang behind
the giant is taken
the normal is taken
(.... and what in Holy Hindu Hell.....?)
tooooo many arms and legs but it. must. die.

he sees.... bright light
he hears.... the impossible shreik before head rolls at his feet
he feels.... body exploding into nothing

ew

he can hear the battle cry coming from the collapsed tunnel
but he's closer to the last.... thing standing
weight shifts, pivots and lunges
blood in his fur splattering in the whorl
joining in the pressing attack

(decker)
The giant may be strong beyond human comprehension. He may have been tough beyond human comprehension, too...but he's still no match for a full-moon. Much less three full-moons turning their simultaneous fury on him. He falls in a flail of massive fists and feet and, towards the end, even his blunt, human teeth.

(...and three.)

The aboveground's cleared. Nothing left but mangled limbs (all eight of them from too-many-limbs), chunks of flesh torn out and strewn about, blood, fur, hair, skin. In the quiet, they can hear what's happening below -

- and it's not pretty.

Dire lunges for the Dancer - and the Dancer crackles suddenly with energy, roaring forward to meet him head-on. The Skald has enough time to see in the unaccountably growing (.electric.) light underground that the Dancer's maw is suddenly filled with greenish foam...rabies, frenzy...

CRUNCH.
.electricity discharges; poison is injected.

The scent of singed fur suddenly fills the tunnel. Dire doesn't know this. The Dancer is biting him as he rips rends tears claws and bites her back. Dire doesn't know this, either. His world is red; it's madness, the sort of frenzy that exceeds normal measure, and delves into the deepest subconscious parts of a Garou, which is, ultimately, tragically, touched with the Destroyer.

Delves.
Sparks.
Releases--

Thrall. of. the. Wyrm.

(rune)
The last of the Fomori falls, but the sounds of battle still rage from the tunnel. Blood still seeps from the she-wolf's wounds, matting down the fur upon her flank. She pivots sharply, spinning to dive back down the tunnel, spurred on by the sounds of battle. The fresh, chill earth has already been clawed loose by their forward charge, and now spews from beneath her great paws with every long, loping step back toward the battle in which the last of their ersatz pack is engaged.

(decker)
One and then the other, the mottled and the grey, delving into the near-total darkness of the tunnel, where their dayblind eyes can barely see. But what they do see...

(Dire's done lost it. That bitch used some power on him and he's done killed her. He's standing in her corpse skull fucking the remains in his frenzy...)

...and, seeing the backlit shadows of Rune and Decker, drops her like a sack of rotten meat, drops to all fours, and charges slavering and bleeding down the tunnel at full tilt, too lost in his frenzy to recognize friend from foe.

(rune)
The brief backpeddle ( - I did not see that - ) is the Glass Walker's first reaction to terrible vision in front of her. Then she's rising - from four legs to two - into her massive crinos form. Surging forward, the Ahroun meets the Skald's assault and embraces it, eschewing the first blow in order to land a more telling one.

The Get falls upon the female crinos, claws raking a long furrow from her shoulder down her chest to her belly. She does not merely take the blow, she welcomes it with fucking open arms. They're practically stuck now, two massive beasts in space meant for only one of their kind, with rootlets and earth and rock and stone crumbling all around them. The Ahroun literally embraces the Metis: one massive paw closes heavy on his shoulder; the other swings around and slams ( - fucking. hard. - ) into the base of his skull. With her Crinos strength augmented by Eagle's own, it's more than the wounded Skald can withstand, and he crumples to the ground.

What follows is a long, slow drag and slow through the tunnel back up to blessed light (Rune never thought she'd be so happy to see the damn woods in her life) and another, longer slog back to the cabin for rendevous.

Decker returns to Erik, burdened with the supine form of the Crinos Get Metis. Rune and James - after a pause to lick their wounds - retrace their path through the woods back to town. They pause long enough to retrieve the discarded packs and check that someone came for Zoe and Luc (they did), then continue onward, pausing at the edge of the woods to change form once more (Rune making a makeshift bandage for her wounds from her second favorite silk turtleneck, black, because it does not show blood. It'll be a good excuse for a shopping spree.) before charging into town to heroically rescue Rune's Beemer from Hicksville, U.S.A.

Perhaps an hour or two later, the make-shift pack is back on the road, heading home.

Posted by james at January 25, 2003 12:00 AM
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