April 20, 2004
.04.20.04. - whatever it takes [erik-madison] *p

[umbra]

(erik)
He crouches down behind a piece of umbral wreckage. Over head, webs-lines have grown quite prevalent, as has the glow of weaver-light in the near distance. No wyrmpit, this, yet still, Erik cautions stealth with a brief quiver of the totem bond.

(james)
caution rides the wings of impressionistic quiver
response negotiated in little more than lift of umber eyes
the shift of weight following a measured exhale
crouched no large distance away
fingers spread on the spiritworld ground to support his frame
opposite hand resting on the crest of pipe extending past sheath's tip
intent peaks in the raise of brow towards bandana taming dreads
clothing clings to the folding angles of skeleton and muscle
anything considered excess left to wait in the factory
all that moves on the Gnawer is a small leather amulet
it's content weight drawn from it's place at his throat by gravity

(erik)
His head swivels slowly, casting vision over the spiritscape as an arm comes up, extended towards his packmate palm up. Fingers flick, calling the packmate to him. Only then does he turn his vision onto the packmate. Horrible, but not because of the ruined mass of scar tissue. No, the face of the alpha is horrible for the grin it wears. The same grin as the last bane the two captured. The same grin as when he told the packmate what the bane was for. "Need its ichor. cover our smell."

The same grin he wore as he spread its remains all over the both of them. There will have to be a cleansing after this...

(james)
time strolls slowly by before the shadow unfolds to man
and upon the fusion of two crouched shapes to one
the horrible grin is mirrored by a twisted expression of his own

sometimes, you just have to appreciate whatever it is that gets certain people to smile

so many would recoil from the maniacal gleam dancing in fanatic blue
wary of the unspoken history that inspired such horrible power
but never once has he flinched from the Alpha's gaze
not even now, as they balance so close to the madness that could consume them all
septic glow from the too-close weaver lights find their way into deep umber
scissoring the distal change that reveals glimpse of the monster waiting beneath his skin

he did not flinch as the ichor soaked into his flesh
instead, he formed a distinct curve on lips that once so easily smiled
(.... something's changed in you, Jamey-boy)
those that turn, now, towards the structure beyond wasteland wreckage
drawing attention across what may reveal itself in the lulling comfort of silence

glance strafes, head tips in a body's most primal language
alert. ready. waiting.

(erik)
A quick jerk of the head towards open ground draws the eyes along with it. To what might be a building, or a park, or a mailbox on the real side, but is only a dark pooling of shadow here.

Erik stops everything, going suddenly still, as a high pitched whine intrudes. Only after it is receding does he look up to find a net spider scuttling along a high web-line. A grim look cast to his packmate before buisness again rears its ugly head.

He speaks, coherent, through the totem bond. "In there is wyrm. You will go in, drive wyrm out, here, to me. I will hide, wait, and capture. Use wyrmscale and do not speak to wyrm." No asking if he understands. That question will be answered if his packmate is alive to observe the questioning of corruption that will follow.

(james)
lips part, tongue sliding across the even surface of white enamel
it is the only response James outwardly forms to the spider, and the instructions
across the silence of packmate bond, breath chuffs in accordance
dark (darker) eyes locked on the voidal pool yawning ahead

there is no pause for farewells as he stretches to stalkng gait
no glances across shoulders clawed by the tips of blackly ashed wounds
(it's as if the darkness already creeps towards stronger hold upon him)
there is no last chance given to the affirmation of his Alpha's visual cues
just as there is no waver in his path even if it directs him around the camoflage of scattered debris

if he does not understand - there is no reason for him to know the path of return, nor the familiar face that would have greeted him

the weapon draws silent out of its thighbelt sheath
subdued flash reflecting the capture of distant lights on murderous metal
freehand swings to ready near the concealed scale

lost in the darkness of the umbralscape shadow
each step drawing closer to their hunt's tainted quarry
he gives no thought to hypothesized plan and action
there is no other option than doing. whatever. it. takes.

(erik)
It is good that he does not look back. No alpha, he, yet no yearling either. Blooded and cut, the packmate should be well alone. Erik, shrouded in blissful ignorance so that the spirit worlds around him cannot find him, ruminates as he watches his packmate. Not many could or would do what he has asked so simply, alone. They would look to pack, making their strength into weakness. Not this one, though.

(james)
slipping through the umbral-structure maze within the darkness
he reflects to ignite the sigil's blasphemous protection in shades of luminescent green
he does not spare the attention Tribal logic would dictate question his actions

his immediate, unconditional acceptance that has him striding into the nightmare all but completely blind - and away from the one thing in this spirit world that stands for what it is so obvious he treasures above all else

he is not arrogant enough to construct expectations with greeting the coming dawn
never has he wasted a day with the assumption another is guaranteed to follow
long before he learned to take the monstrous shape which embodied his Rage
he knew what life his kind were born to spend caught in endless battle
should this finally be the night destined as his last to walk the earth
it shall not bear the stain that he once doubted why his heart beat so strong and true
(... how deep is your faith... )

something darkens in the endless night ahead
a shadow which thickens to turn its toxic face towards the nearing creature
breath expelled to coat the masqerading Garou with sickening, sticky fumes
flesh quivers beneath the growing pelt that blankets him in illusion's corruption
everything he despises about what he appears to be suddenly focused on the hovering bane

its explorative attention slapped back by the blistering explosion of heatwave Rage
its curious gaze brutalized by pipe-driven spike pushing with the force of fanatical hate
its howling pain answered by savage teeth snapping behind talon's ripping slash
its defensive strikes drawing blood into grizzled fur - but the Crinos. makes. no. sound.

black lips curl to shape that twisted, hungry, hunting smile instead

the Wyrm's vile shifters need not a reason to justify the madness of their abuse
there is no break in his assault long enough to try to question the method within his own growing wrath
(give it no time to think, give it only time to fear)
slowly, steadily, mercilessly - he drives the bane back through the shadowmaze
soon enough, the fight twists into flight, and the assault becomes a chase

(erik)
He waits, he watches. Patient as a puma, watchful as the deer. He feels, more than sees his packmates position. As James enters the harrying, even though erik is a hundred yards away or more, his heartrate and breathing still increase. He can almost feel the moment approaching, definitely feel the rage rising...

And the moment
Is almost
There

The umbra is Blissfully Ignorant of his presence, as is the bane, though the packmate knows. Ignorance is no substitute for saftey, as the bane suddenly learns on the end of the Alpha's claws. Its stuck fast, writhing, trying to heave itself off, away.

(wyld chyld)
She had seen him only briefly. He hadnt changed much. Gotton a bit uglier, slightly meaner, he certainly never was much of a conversationalist, but she had thought he would have had more to day. something must have happened But it had been a couple years, and of course shit had happened.
Shit had happened to her as well.
So much had changed in the years since Grendel Park. That was for sure.

so the encounter had been only a few minutes.
Some welcome, fucker.
But there was no ill will here, in fact she had expected no less from him.
He was always quiet and sullen. She was the exact opposite.
Most of the time saying exactly what was on her mind long before thinking about it, which was something she had actually been working on.
progress?
growing up?
Nawwww.... coincidence perhaps.

She had never been the quiet one, nor the antisocial one.

Enter Madison Cassidy
Wyld Chyld.
Maroon doc martens on her feet. Carrying her up the sidewalk. Jeans and a black T-shirt that just reads in red letters. "FA-Q"
Funny, seems she is always wearing that shirt. A flannel tossed over it. Covering her toned body. things aren’t always what they seem to be
Does she look like someone who has been studying martial arts for years? Probably not.
But she is.

Her eyes are a eerie blue, and her hair, jet black with a white stripe down the left side. [battle scar].

She has a mischievous look about her, but also a personality that doesn’t repel people the way she could if she wanted to.


And She sidesteps into the Umbra....

Slips in. The tattoos on her lower back holding more then just stories of her life.

(james)
he knows where his packmate lays in vicious ambush
he can feel the tandem surge of adrenaline crackling over bonded paths
though the creature seems ready to chase the hapless bane til the ends of the spirit world.....
ignorance shattered at the tips of Blood Eagle's claws

the shaggy Crinos skids to a stop
gravel skitters and bounces frightened cadence
his heart thumps heavily against the cage bars ribs set as jail in his chest
breath heaves, compensating a body's efforts to find the stasis of rest
wounds drip, the few still open and seeping offering wet rain to filthy ground

already driven to the points of excess
the writhing beast is further pushed to the brink of resources
it doesn't take long for two battle-veteran Garou to subdue the bane


(erik)
The bane is beaten, pummeled and stomped into submission, and Erik, at least, seems to take a zealous glee in this. He smacks and slams the bane around, and even lets the packmate get in a few poundings. Their strength is unimaginable, and Erik's glee, horrible.

Satisfied, sated, at last, Erik deliberatley and slowly shrinks back to the homid form. He is quite unaffraid, and the bane knows it. Casually he scans the area...

(wyld chyld)
And what was it about the fucking umbra that gave her that strange feeling.
never completely comfortable but shed never show that, anything she felt shoved deep down where no one could find it.

In her hand, a tree branch and some river water. Yes the tree branch had some green on it, and the river water in a small jug was fresh.
This was in fact the only thing he really had said to her in their brief encounter. Something about coming here, and bringing this.
The items would swirl into her body art when she shifted Yes, she had brought them with her, as asked.

And now she finds herself walking in the downtown area, only it wasnt the downtown she was used to.

She cant feel him. Not anymore, no longer packmates, no longer beta to him as alpha.

Let him find her, he would. That she knew.

(james)
Erik isn't the only one that finds some kind of unnerving glee in the beating
most that know the shaggy Ahroun would hope he's simply keeping up the sake of appearence
further traumatizing the mess that was once a bane
but the way he settles back on his haunches once it's "over"
tail whipping back and forth in slow arches just about the ground
spike tipped pipe lazily cradled in one giant handpaw
still wearing that dangerously crooked grin....

perhaps it is better off to not bring such questions to light

deep umber eyes stare through the gore splattered into fur
unwavering as they watch the dark spirit
automatically keeping his attention at his Alpha's back

(erik)
Eyes narrow, focusing on a distant figure. That would be Madison, right on time. Right fuckin on time. He whips his eyes back at the spirit and lets out a snarl that even she must hear. The Bane sqrirms again, screeching even louder than the Alpha, but it doesn't get away... Erik reaches down, and with his bare, human hands proceeds to break each and every leg the spirit has. There are several. And still no words. He's in no hurry.

(wyld chyld)
Now would be a good time to activate the talen Erik gave her. Most of the time she didnt even question the shit. She just did it.

He had always looked out for her, and she fought him tooth and nail, usually to no avail.
Or at least that was how it used to be.
A long time ago. like brother and sister they were. But so much had changed. She couldnt even feel him near.
was he
Didnt matter anyways, so far she had already met so many different types in this town...Some she liked, some she didnt, and none of it really mattered much to her.
She was unique. And that mouth, the things that sometimes came out of it, that would be the death of her someday. If she wasnt careful.
Talen activated...Deceitful to the things that lurked here in the umbra.

But in the distance now. Like clockwork, timing really was everything She begins to see the figures in the distance.

And...not quite on time, slightly late...as always


(james)
broad, lupine head tips - let us hope it is simply curiosity
(not with the hunger and wrath still burning in those eyes)
watching the deliberately and davastatingly slow process directed at each leg

spiked tip of the pipe slams to the earth, buried almost to the welded joint
riiiiight in the path of where the bane thought to squirm away from increasing pain
teeth bared in warning that draws no growl from his throat

attention breifly diverts for his own ascertation of whom approaches

but now he's settled to watch, and keep watch
the weapon drawn back to hold at ready
his initial part in this little endeavor complete
here begins a lesson not all would be privy to learn

(erik)
Another look is spared for the approaching Madison, since the bane isn't doing much now but flopping in place. Can't even seem to get off of its back, now. She's comming, and, yes, he sees that she has brought him what he wants. Good. Soon the hard part will come...

Attention back on the bane. He reaches down again, and now, no matter how human his hands look, no one could mistake that for anything but an utter lie. One grips the edge of a boney plate, the other presses down right next to it, and...

Ri-i-i-i-i-i-i-P

The boney plate is cast away as the alpha leans down, putting his wreck of a face right in front of the banes. His finger traces the outline of the hole...

He speaks.

No language James would know, or want to know. The language of the wyrm passes from his throat like rat droppings. Now the bane understands. Now it knows.

But it does not.

(wyld chyld)
And now she can seee..
Whatever is going on.
She stops a few steps back before moving right into the action before her...

Erik speaks. Her eyes fall on the banes, the other there, who she recognizes slightly from Jersey, and back to Erik.

She says nothing, as ballsy as she can be about saying something obmoxious or smart assed, she also knew when to keep her mouth shut. [sometimes]
Holding the items in her hand. She waits.

(james)
instinctively, long velvet ears flatten against his skull
no Garou would want to hear that language hissed from so near
especially not from the trusted lips of their Alpha
but James does not turn away, at first
rhythmic the scan of visual guard pulls his gaze away
though (all too) soon deep umber returns again

hidden beneath the thickly wet pelt colored by still-dripping gore, his skin. crawls.

attention flicks to Madison when she joins their torturous circle

(erik)
Take the branch. Take the water. Bring them to me

(james)
the Crinos stands without any outward sign of incentive
crossing the distance between himself and Madison with but a step
handpaws held out with grunt indicative of what he wants
and when she gives up the branch and water
he turns to pass them on to his Alpha


(erik)
Erik stops the merciless chant and plunges his finger down intot he exposed belly of the beast. Never do his eyes leave those of the evil spirit, and never are the spirit's eyes allowed to look away. Riveted by haterd, a hateed very real and fiercer than any other its ever known. It does not see the burning talen braided into the Alpha's hair.

Then the fun really starts. The bane speaks. Fully spirit, and fully corrupted, its voice seeps and writhes under skin and soul.

It tastes... It tastes like eating your best friend, sounds like his screams, smells like his dead, bloated corpse. Even Erik's gorge rises.

He never shows it.

As the packmate approaches he stands without a word. The bane goes on and on, filling the air with blasphemies. Erik isn't listening. Its lieing, still. He takes the implements of torture from the packmate and holds them above the bane.

Sweetest of mercys, it shuts the hell up at that.

(wc)
She hands the stuff to Drums and her hands move to her sides.

Watching. Watching everything...quietly. She watches, she listens, the sounds are enough to make her face wrench slightly. She did show it a bit.

Nothing like anything she has ever seen.
Standing in the torturous circle, just watching and listening.

(erik)
Back away now. Show fear. Move her with you

(james)
at first, James doesn't show his reaction
then something seems to flicker within wolfman mind
(he's felt these things before)

but nonetheless - he begins to back away
forcing his ears to pin tighter against his skull
lowering the murderous cant of bushy tail
supplicating the tilt of his head to the side in show of throat
allowing what would be a high-pitched sound to rattle the fur above his larynx

talons catch and grip Madison's flannel
suggesting she move away as well


(wc )
Suggestion taken as she moves away, backing up with the him, her steps probably bigger then his at this point.

this wasnt her party, thats for suer, she just came with the sugar.

(erik)
Erik's attention focused soley on the bane as he stands above it holding a branch from a Cottomwood tree green with buds in one hand, and a clay bowl filled with water in the other. For a moment he looks triumphant, then he seems confused. Looking over his back he sees James and Maddy in retreat.

A snarl leaps onto his face as he turns and strides towards the two. "The fuck you think yer goin!"

He keeps comming, leaving the bane a few steps away, pinned through with a sharp implement. It can't go anywhere. "I said... The fuck you two goin? Paid in blood did I, for this Gaia-slut rite, and yer gonna fuckin do yer part!" He screaming at the top of his lungs. He grabs a fist full of the packmates hair, trusting his to remain steady. He points witht he branch back towards the bane... "Now get back there you worthless tree huggin muther."

Then he rounds on Madison...

(james)
he moves them a safe distance away
weight shifting on the ballpads of his feet
he makes a show to have it seem nervous action
though in reality it's occupying his further lust for Rage
he may look fearfully uneasy - but so close, she can feel he's anything but
steps deliberately keep himself as a sheild, as if to protect her from such fearsome things Erik shall be
though they do more for allowing his continued surveillance of what surrounds them

attention swings back to check on his Alpha
(Totem Phone: Easy now. Play along.)
and he all but collapses to the ground as the verbal tirade begins
(.... now would not be the time to admit it's because of laughter)
doing his best to scramble and scrape his way back to the bane
and out of the infuriated homid's grip

misplacing humilation's wrath in several - bluffed - snaps at the pinned bane
(the fuck you lookin' at??)

(wc)
Rage all around.
He moves them a safe distance away before Eriks words lash out at them, and she cant help but smirk.
Yes...smirk.
like old times
Normally a snide comment inserted here, however, this was one of the times she knew not to.

Never a dull moment...
and her eyes reach his and she swallows down any sign of fear or uncertainty
before heading back to the circle.

the fuck you think you guys are going

"nowhere" she muttes out.

(erik)
His face contorts into an almost explosion, eyes bug out, wide, blue, freaking. Like a trip arm he swings the branch around and slams it against her face. Its not an incredibly solid weapon at the end with which he hits her, but he is also much stronger than when she knew him before. Then he is on her, grabbing two handfulls of coat and heaving her towards the packmate. Yes, much stronger. Hope she's still as witty as ever. She's gonna need every bit of that.

And yes, walking back towards them and the bane, he is starting to have some fun.

(james)
he was born into Skid Row Vaudeville
it is easy enough for him to play along
body language repetoir of ducks and quivers and flinches
the nervous dance of step to keep him out of the line of fire

oh, by the translation of what relays beneath the totemic bond
Erik's not the only one having fun

[continued in forums - 4-27]

Posted by james at April 20, 2004 12:00 AM